


Waiting For Day

by JBankai89



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Russian empire, Arranged Marriage, Dancer Yuri, Fluff, Forced Marriage, M/M, Mpreg, Omegaverse, Russian Empire, Soldier Otabek, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 61,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15999026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: All Yuri ever wanted to be was a dancer. However, as an unwed omega, he never did have the luxury of choosing his own path. When his grandfather, a general in the Russian Empire’s army, is relocated to Kazakhstan, Yuri had no choice but to go with him.Unfortunately, little does Yuri know how drastically his life will change when he arrives—behind closed doors, his fate is made for him when his grandfather chooses for him a Kazakh husband, a soldier named Otabek Altin.





	1. Prologue - Alone

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The prologue is fairly short, but I promise the first real chapter will be much longer. At the moment I will be doing bi-weekly updates, so the next one will be September 30th. All Russian and Kazakh phrases have been translated/transliterated by me, and neither language I am very familiar with, so feel free to point out any mistakes I have made. 
> 
> Though I tried to follow Russian/Kazakh history fairly closely, there are certain adjustments I did make, but nothing too wild.

_He seems to me equal to gods that man_

_whoever he is who opposite you_

_sits and listens close_

_to your sweet speaking_

 

_and lovely laughing—oh it_

_puts the heart in my chest on wings_

_for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking_

_is left in me_

 

_Excerpt from Fragment 31 by Sappho (64_ _0_ _-6_ _00BCE)_

 

 

Prologue – Alone

Yuri sat in a rocking chair by the window, worsted woven around his fingers, working mindlessly as he watched the snow fall upon the quiet landscape. It was growing dark outside, another day passing him by, and once again he felt as though he’d accomplished very little in that time.

The cottage was small for a burgeoning family, but with only him occupying the space, it felt as large as a palace. He wished his husband had allowed his grandfather to come and live with them, but alas, that had not been included in the dowry.

Yuri sighed, and turned his gaze away from the window, and to the knitting in his hands—small woollen long clothes for his unborn child. He had never been as good at the craft as the other omegas that he knew, but it would suffice. His child would not freeze once they were born.

He set aside the knitting, and stood up with a small groan. He headed for the kitchen, his gaze falling upon the pile of letters upon the table as he went. He paused, smiling, his fingers brushing over the various missives from his husband, until his gaze fell upon the most recent one, and his heart seemed to swell as he took in the words.

 

_My Dearest Yuri,_

_As I write this, a new year dawns around me, and it pains me that you are not at my side to welcome it together. They say that 1885 is the year that the war will end, though I see no end in sight. I miss you, and I fear that I may overstay my posting as we push back against the enemy forces, and miss the birth of our child._

_In your last letter, you complained of backache; I do hope that it is improved with the included ointment I have sent you, along with the money for food, clothes, and other necessities. I promised to provide for you, even in my absence, and it is my deepest desire that you are happy, despite how lonely it must be there without me._

_I am hoping to return soon, and until then I ask that you look to the horizon, for I shall never leave you, not while I still have breath in my lungs._

_All my love,_

_Beka_

 

Yuri curled his hand against the letter, his fingers tracing the letters absentmindedly, and he let out a little sigh as he rested his opposite hand against the swell of his stomach. 

He was lonely.

He was  _bored._

Life as a wed omega had never been one of Yuri’s fantasies, and of late even less so, when he was so physically impeded by this pregnancy.

Yuri recalled seeing Otabek for the first time, drawing up the memory in an effort to distract himself, back when he would to go to Samarkand’s town hall, and dance. Otabek was a soldier, a respectable man, and a decorated alpha who had not been able to look away from Yuri’s graceful movements.

Yuri, however, had barely noticed him. His focus was on his dancing, and dreams of a life beyond that little forgotten village.

At times, Yuri wished that he had paid closer attention. Had it really only been a year ago that he had been free of this dull life? Perhaps if his focus had extended beyond that of his craft, he may have noticed the signs that his grandfather was being propositioned for Yuri’s hand—and the rest of him.

His grandfather had heartily agreed to the match, and Yuri conceded that Otabek was a good man, if painfully monosyllabic at times. But Otabek wanted Yuri—he wanted Yuri to dance only for him, and with the stroke of a pen, his days of performing for the audiences of his village were over, and he was resigned to the life of a wed omega. His duty now was to his household, to his husband, and to the children that they would have.

Otabek followed the traditions of the time, and took Yuri to bed so quickly that the consummation was little more than a blur in the omega’s mind. The proof that it had occurred lay waiting in his stomach, almost ready to join the world. In this, Otabek had performed his role excellently; he was a devoted lover, and tended to Yuri’s needs more readily than his own.

Yuri ran his hand across his stomach again, and sighed. Would he see his husband again, he wondered, and if he returned, would he be the same man, or irrevocably changed by the horrors of war?

The omega’s gaze drifted to the window, and the desolation of winter that lay beyond it. His thoughts drifted to the past.

 


	2. Dance of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you guys so much for the comments on the prologue. Here is the first chapter, and I hope you guys enjoy it! ^.^ Next update will be October 14th.

Chapter One – Dance of Fate

 

Yuri peered out past the curtain that divided him from his audience, and frowned. 

The Samarkand Russian Settlement was painfully small, and he counted barely forty people in attendance, including his grandfather, dressed in his uniform—despite the lack of necessity for it—a scant few townspeople, and more soldiers—most from his grandfather’s garrison, but a few unfamiliar faces stood out to him as well—Kazakh men who claimed to fight for the Russians now, but Yuri, like his grandfather, still somewhat doubted that particular claim.

Yuri rotated his shoulders to alleviate some of his nervous tension. It was almost time, but the bubbling sense of disappointment at the small turnout refused to fade.  _Why_ had his grandfather been stationed here, in this wasteland of a country? He missed Moscow bitterly, and the thought of the city made him almost want to weep. He’d been so  _close_ to achieving his dream as a ballerina, only to have it snatched away.

An unwed omega, after all, was hardly fit to be left on his own in any place, but in particular not alone in a large city like Moscow. He needed to stay in his grandfather’s care until he found a husband—which was, ironically, the  _last_ thing he wanted to do. If he found an alpha for himself, he sincerely doubted that they’d be willing to let him continue to pursue his dreams of dance.

With a heavy sigh, Yuri swallowed his disappointment at the poor turnout behind a blank expression, while he swept a stray lock of golden hair from his eyes. He stepped out from behind the curtain to polite applause, and shivered a little at the heavy scent of alpha men that hung on the air. He didn’t like it—he never had, despite his grandfather’s many reminders that Yuri would have to get used to it eventually.

Yuri cast a brief glance over the audience, but did not hold the gazes of any of the attendees as he cleared his mind and reminded himself who he was—he was a dancer; he was living art; and he was an ice tiger trapped in a cage—stuck in this foreign land that he hated so deeply.

The first quivering notes of the violin began, and Yuri lifted his arms as he began to move. His costume of blue-white leotards and an open shirt of the same colour clung to his skin and barely rustled as he danced.

Yuri moved like rushing water, like a swan on a lake, like a golden leaf in autumn as it pirouetted its way to the ground. His movements were fluid, and he knew that he danced beautifully, but when he cast his eyes to the assembled crowd, he felt a hot burst of anger swell in his chest as he saw that one of the young Kazakh soldiers was turning  _away_ from him, and ignoring his dance!

The omega gritted his teeth, and strove to keep his face blank and movements graceful as he continued to move, while inside a storm of anger began to rage. How  _dare_ this man ignore him! Did he not understand how beautifully he danced? How many suitors had he abandoned for this terrible life here in this wasteland? Did he not know pure  _art_ when he saw it?

Yuri very nearly cursed aloud as he leapt, spinning a final time before he extended his arms with the last notes of his accompanying violin, and bowed amidst polite applause.

No roses fell at his feet, another disappointment among many, and when he glanced back up at last, his heart fell when he noted that not only was that vile  _cur_ was missing, but his grandfather as well!

Yuri gritted his teeth again, and his vision wavered as rage and hurt flooded in him. The other soldiers had not moved, telling Yuri that it was not an emergency like invasion from the Cossacks or rebel Kazakh forces, so why were those two missing? What could be more important than his performance? The settlement wasn’t exactly large, and he knew that this was quite literally the only show in town.

Disappointed, Yuri bowed one last time before he disappeared behind the curtain to change into his street clothes—black trousers, a white shirt, and black shoes. He left a few buttons upon his shirt open, a scandalous move, to be sure, but he was too angry with his grandfather to care what this might do to the older man’s reputation.

A chaperone was awaiting him when he’d finished changing, and outside the room stood one of his grandfather’s most trusted soldiers, a young man with silver hair named Viktor.

“Your Dedushka was called away on personal business, young master,” Viktor said as he nodded his head in greeting to Yuri, and offered him a polite, but informal smile. “He apologizes for his absence.”

“What personal business?” Yuri asked curiously as the two fell in step with one another, but the soldier merely smiled, and did not answer.

Though this grated on Yuri, he found himself unsurprised by the lack of response to his query. In all likelihood, Viktor did not actually  _know_ the details of this so-called  _personal business_ —whatever it might be.

With a small huff, he walked with Viktor back to the main area of the hall, where people immediately swarmed him, all of whom were complimenting him on his performance.

In this particular venue, Yuri was in his element. The crowds were indeed smaller, but their enthusiasm was familiar. He thanked the admirers as they surrounded him with effervescent chatter while a glass of wine was pressed into his hand, and Yuri smiled as he spoke with the people, though it was only the various Russian settlers who approached him, and not the Kazakh soldiers. Yuri did not know if this was out of respect, mistrust, or the language barrier that Yuri had not been quiet about. Yuri refused to learn Kazakh, and he had no intentions to try any time soon.

Perhaps it was foolish, given that there was little chance of him leaving this country any time soon, but Yuri did not care—he hated it here, and he wanted  _out_ .

 

~*~

 

Later that evening, Viktor walked Yuri home, and as they wove through the hard, snow-covered streets, neither man spoke much. Distantly, Yuri could hear the faint sounds of the revelry coming from the town hall and pub, and he felt another twist of jealousy in his stomach as he recalled that  _that_ must be where the rest of the town was, instead of at his recital. He was the general’s  _grandson_ , for God’s sake,  _why_ was he being ignored like this?

“Are you all right, young master?” Viktor asked, raising his eyebrows at Yuri, who realised belatedly that he was close to visibly grinding his teeth in anger.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Yuri muttered grumpily as he stared ahead, hoping that they would get to his home soon; it seemed utterly foolish to him that he needed a bodyguard for the five-minute walk from the theatre to the house he shared with his grandfather, but by the same token, he knew better than to protest it.

They arrived at the house, and the windows were black. Yuri bristled when Viktor insisted on accompanying him inside, and helped him start a fire in the grate, before they both filtered through the small house to light the gas lamps, casting the home in a soft, warm glow.

“I think I shall stand watch until your Dedushka makes his return,” Viktor said, his tone casual and friendly, but Yuri knew that it was probably some sort of law—do not leave the grandson of the general alone, especially in a country rife with war. Viktor would probably be court-marshalled for leaving, even if Yuri _wasn’t_ an unwed omega.

“Do what you will,” Yuri said, not bothering to protest it when he knew it was a waste of time. “I think I shall go to bed, unless you plan on telling me what my Dedushka is up to?”

“You know that it is not my place, young master,” Viktor replied with an apologetic sort of smile, and Yuri nodded, annoyed, but not surprised by the answer either.

“I suspected as much,” Yuri answered with another huff of annoyance, “good night, then.”

“Good night, young master,” Viktor said, “I shall be here should you require anything.”

“I have our household servant for trivial things like that,” Yuri replied, “it is unnecessary for you to lower yourself to such a station.”

“Yes, young master,” Viktor said, smiling a little as he nodded, though his eyes glittered with amusement. “Do what you wish, and heed no nightly noise. I shall be here.”

“Fine. Good night then, Viktor.”

“Good night, young master.”

Yuri traipsed to bed, his insides still churning with frustration as he readied himself for sleep, changing into his nightclothes and transporting a gas lamp to his bedside, while he selected a book from his shelf, and nestled in between the sheets, pleasantly warmed by bedpans left earlier by the household servant.

Yuri sighed despondently, and gazed from his book to his bedroom window, where a gentle snowfall had begun again. In the distance, he could see the silhouettes of soldiers marching in the dim light of the street lanterns, and he felt his stomach churn with a strange sense of longing. If he’d been born as alpha or beta, he would surely not be so sheltered and coddled like a fair maiden—he might even be in charge of his own garrison somewhere else.

He may have never left Russia.

Yuri longed secretly for that freedom, though he knew it came at a high price—he would have been barred from dancing; it was a craft of the womenfolk and omegafolk, not something for a beta man or alpha to do.

He squirmed in his bed, troubled, and closed his book with a sharp  _snap_ . His mind was too clouded to focus on the words. Instead, he pulled out his journal as well as a pen and ink, and began to write.

 

_15_ _th_ _January, 1884_

_The weather is overcast, snowy, and bitterly cold, like my heart._

_I no longer know which route of life I would have preferred had I been born with a different, more favourable cast, but certainly anything would be better than this._

_I feel like a caged bird, forced to sing when my master wishes it, while he is besotted with my beauty. Certainly had I been born as something more fearsome than a songbird, I would not be trapped, but perhaps respected instead. Is my only value in my virtue? Is my only importance my beauty, and ability to bear children?_

_Am I as useful as a brood mare?_

_I am protected constantly, with a zealousness that continues to baffle me. Am I so feeble of mind and body that Dedushka genuinely fears that I would be taken from his side, as though I am nothing more than some sort of precious commodity?_

_I do not know why I am here. I do not know what benefit I bring to this strange, foreign land. I wish to go home._

 

Yuri paused his writings when he heard the soft commotion of his grandfather returning home. On any normal night, he may have come out of his bedroom to greet him, but tonight he was still far too cross to do so, and instead laid out his journal next to him, allowing the ink to dry while he hastily put away the pen and ink, and turned down his lamp before he climbed back into bed, and feigned sleep. 

He listened to the low thrum of Viktor and his grandfather conversing. His grandfather sounded pleased about something, but Yuri was too far to catch any of their words. Curiously, the sound of his grandfather sounding happy in this particular instance filled him with a cold sense of dread, as though whatever was causing his present joy would not be pleasant for Yuri.

“This must be hysteria,” Yuri muttered to himself as he closed his journal, the ink now dry, and he tucked the book away. “I’m being ridiculous.”

Yuri closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the nagging fear did not pass for a long time.

 

~*~

 

In the days to come, Yuri quickly forgot about his worries concerning his grandfather as things returned to normal. However, Yuri could not help but note that he seemed to be gone much more of late, though Yuri thought little of it—this was not an uncommon occurrence, after all, and given that his grandfather was a Russian General, he was always quite busy.

 

A fortnight later, Yuri woke late in the morning to find that his finest clothes had been laid out for him on his chair, along with a platter of warm rolls spread with honey, and a full pot of strong, Russian tea.

“Odd...” Yuri mumbled to himself as he yawned, going first for the food and tea, before he pulled on his clothing that had been laid out, and he was in the midst of tugging on his pale blue jacket when there was a soft knock upon the door.

“Enter,” Yuri called, and watched as the door cracked open, revealing his dark-haired servant, ironically of the same name as himself. The servant was a humble gift from the Mongols when they’d traded with them, and invaluable, given how quietly obedient the older man was.

“A-Apologies, Master,” Yuuri said as he dropped his eyes, “I was unaware that you were not decent.”

“It’s fine,” Yuri grunted as he smoothed out his jacket, his fingers bumping over the fine white embroidery as he went. “Was there something that you needed?”

“Master Nikolai requested that I style your hair nicely for your outing this afternoon,” Yuuri explained shyly, a tiny bead of nervous sweat collecting at his brow as he spoke, as though he expected Yuri to lash out at him for speaking.

“Fine, fine,” Yuri said with a huff as he stomped towards his vanity and sat down. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what’s been going on, or where he’s taking me, do you?”

“It is not my place, Master,” Yuuri replied with a nervous laugh, and picked up the silver-backed brush, before he began to gently run it through Yuri’s long hair in slow, sure strokes. “But I am certain that you shall have a lovely time, regardless.”

“I suppose,” Yuri replied with a wince, and glared at his reflection as Yuuri continued to brush his hair.

 

Half an hour later, Yuri presented himself in the front hall with his hair styled in a fine, long braid. He found his grandfather already waiting for him, fully dressed in his general’s uniform, along with the medals that he’d earned pinned to his lapel, which Yuri had only seen him adorn once or twice before for special occasions. 

“The carriage is waiting for us, Yuratchka,” his grandfather said simply, “let us go.”

“Where exactly _are_ we going, Dedushka?” Yuri asked curiously, but his grandfather did not answer, and instead began to lead him outside.

“Come,” he said, “we must not be late.”

Yuri frowned at his grandfather’s non-answer, and grudgingly followed him outside to the carriage.

 

~*~

 

Yuri quickly learnt that the reason for their early departure had to do more with the distance from their home to  _wherever_ they were going, rather than any intent to spend a full day there. It was a painfully long and dull day’s ride, and his grandfather did not appear to be in a talkative mood, leaving Yuri to watch the barren Kazakh steppe pass them by in silence. 

Their carriage at last came to a halt just before sunset, stopping before a quaint little house deep in the mountains, one that closely hugged the Siberian border. It seemed to be made of stone, and aside from the delicate curl of smoke that wafted from the chimney, Yuri saw no exterior characteristics that would indicate that whoever lived here came from a moneyed background of any kind.

“Dedushka,” Yuri murmured softly, “what are we doing here?”

“Something very important,” his grandfather replied, “what do you think of the house?”

“The house?” Yuri paused, and looked back to it. “It’s a bit...plebeian, but all right, I suppose. Why?”

His grandfather did not answer, but instead stepped out of the carriage when the footman opened the door, then paused to wait for Yuri.

Confused and mildly apprehensive, Yuri descended the steps and followed his grandfather to the door, where the older man knocked firmly upon the wood. Yuri shifted from foot to foot nervously when he heard someone moving about inside, and as they approached from the other side, with them came the distinct scent of an alpha.

Quite suddenly, Yuri had the most curious compulsion to run away, though he could not articulate why. The doorknob rattled and turned, revealing the Kazakh soldier from his recital, the one who had left early. He was dressed as his grandfather was in his uniform, but far from appearing cold and nonchalant, he greeted Yuri’s grandfather with a warm smile and a firm handshake, as well as a few friendly words in Kazakh, which Yuri did not understand.

Still smiling, Yuri’s grandfather placed a gentle hand at Yuri’s back, and urged the omega forward.

“Yuri,” his grandfather said, “I would like you to meet Private Otabek Altin, your fiancé.”

 


	3. Zakuski

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: All Kazakh translations are from secondary sources; if they’re wrong, please let me know so that I can fix it. Next update will be October 28th. Enjoy ^.^

Chapter Two – Zakuski

 

“Wh-what?” Yuri stammered, his breath caught somewhere in his throat by his shock, and he swayed on the spot. For a moment, he thought he might faint. “ _Fianc_ _é_? B-But—”

Both men ignored him, his words cutting off as the man, Altin, stepped forward, took Yuri’s right hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

“ _Tan_ _ı_ _sqan_ _ımız_ _ğ_ _a qwanı_ _ş_ _tımın_ ,” he said, which Yuri knew meant _pleased to meet you_ —though under the circumstances, Yuri felt that there was nothing _pleasing_ about it.

Yuri yanked his hand away, and his grandfather frowned at him.

“Yuratchka, be polite,” his grandfather admonished. “That is no way to treat your husband-to-be.”

“ _Qazaq_ _ş_ _a söylejsiz_ be, Yuri?” Altin asked politely, and Yuri frowned at him.

“No, I do _not_ speak Kazakh,” he replied stubbornly, and both of the other men frowned at him.

His grandfather took charge of the encounter, and said something else to Altin, and he nodded as he began to lead Yuri and his grandfather inside.

The interior of the little house was not much better than the outside, in Yuri’s opinion. The wooden floors were covered with plush furs, but Yuri could see how underneath the bearskin and woollen rugs, the planks were warped with age. The front room was one big open space; the left half of it was devoted to a sitting room with pieces of furniture that appeared to be at least fifty years old, and on the right was a dining room set, complete with a spread of zakuski—cheeses, small pastries, as well as red wine in a tall carafe.

“We will eat,” Altin said in Russian, his accent thick, but it still left no room for protest.

Though that did not mean that Yuri did not try. He backed up a little, wondering if he could convince the footman that was still waiting outside to leave with Yuri, abandoning his grandfather here, but as he began to move, his grandfather frowned disapprovingly, and gently coaxed him forward.

“Come now, Yuratchka,” his grandfather admonished gently. “Do not be difficult. Private Altin is a good man.”

“I do not care if he is God himself, or the Devil,” Yuri snarled softly, “you can’t make me do this, marry below my station to a man I have _never_ met, who does not even speak our language!”

“Yuratchka,” his grandfather said patiently as he led him over to the table. “Do not be like this. Just speak with him, he may yet surprise you.”

_And say what,_ Yuri wondered furiously as he was shunted reluctantly over to the table,  _another reminder that I do not speak Kazakh? It sounds like he can barely speak Russian. How could this possibly work?_

Seeing no other option, Yuri sullenly followed his grandfather’s lead to the table, where the stranger was smiling and waiting for them. Despite the calm demeanour Yuri now exuded to this alpha, inside he was roiling with anger. It was painfully clear to Yuri just what his grandfather had been up to these last weeks—he’d been arranging this farce.

Yuri felt every part the fool when he thought back to his grandfather’s curious behaviour of late;  _how_ could he not have realized what he had been doing?

Yuri sat down across from Altin, and fought the urge to glare at the alpha. He did not seem to notice Yuri’s sour attitude, or, if he did, he didn’t care. Instead, he clapped his hands once, and a small oriental omega flitted out of the kitchens, bowed to the table once as he spoke a greeting in a language that Yuri did not know, and he proceeded to pour the wine for the three men, while Nikolai and Altin filled their plates with tidbits, though Yuri did not find himself to be particularly hungry, and instead crossed his arms, glaring at the two older men, thick as thieves as they began to converse in rapid Kazakh, and the way that his grandfather would occasionally gesture to Yuri or say his name left nothing to the imagination of what they were probably discussing.

As he sat there, not touching any of Altin’s offerings, Yuri warred with his two impulses—the first to  _demand_ to know what they were saying about him, and the second to pointedly ignore it in an effort to show just how little he cared about this so-called  _arrangement_ .

The most horrible part was, Yuri knew that there was no escape either. He could protest as much as he’d like, but in the end, if his grandfather had consented to the marriage, there would be no stopping it. This was how things were done; an alpha approaches the parents or guardian of their intended, and asks for their hand, then if the guardians of the omega agree to it, they would wed. Yuri had only ever heard of omegas having the luxury of  _choice_ or  _love_ in romance novels, but never in the real world.

This knowledge made Yuri even more depressed, and looking upon Altin made him feel sick.

Uncaring how weak it might make him look, Yuri forced his gaze to his knees, and the voices of his companions faded into the background.

 

~*~

 

Unfortunately for Yuri, the encounter with his new fiancé was not over when they’d finished eating, and to his horror, his grandfather informed him that they’d be spending the night. 

“But, Dedushka—!” Yuri began to protest, his eyes wide as the older man cut off his words with a quick shake of his head.

“No arguments, Yuri,” his grandfather said sternly, “your fiancé has made up the guest bedrooms for us, and it would be rude to decline his offer. And, as you know, these roads are very dangerous at night; it would not be safe to travel such a distance under the cover of darkness. Bandits hunt for foolish travellers this far into the wilderness, and we would likely pay for your pride with our lives. Is that what you want?”

“That’s not fair, Dedushka,” Yuri protested as he glared at the older man. “I was not implying such a thing, but it seems rather improper to me for us to sleep in the same house when we are...not yet wed.”

Yuri’s voice cracked and died in his throat as he muttered the latter three words reluctantly, and his grandfather heaved a frustrated sigh at Yuri’s attitude.

“He is a good man, Yuratchka, and your marriage will aid in making great strides towards the success of the Russian Empire in conquering this land. Additionally, he has told me many times that he wishes only the best for you, and swears to treat you decently. What more could you want?”

“Perhaps some choice in the matter?” Yuri asked icily, his usual desire to speak respectfully with his only remaining familial tie lost as furious indignation took its place. “You are marrying me off to a man who I _do not know_. Does that seem _right_ to you?”

“Consider, perhaps, that it is your duty in this war, Yuratchka,” his grandfather said firmly. “Your marriage will aid us in many ways, ensuring a treaty with one of the nearby Kazakh camps. Private Otabek’s father is a very influential leader, and this marriage will aid in currying his favour. Will you not do your duty for the Empire in this time of need?”

“I don’t _have_ a duty, Dedushka,” Yuri snarled angrily. “I am not a soldier, I am not a warrior. I am a _dancer_. This is not my war.”

His grandfather opened and shut his mouth, his face contorted in fury that Yuri had rarely seen before. He looked betrayed, angry, but despite this, any words of condemnation that he may have voiced never left his mouth.

“We will stay here tonight, Yuratchka,” he repeated firmly, leaving no room for argument. “I want no more protests. You will sleep tonight, and soon, you will wed Private Otabek Altin, and this shall become your home. This is your future, and I will not hear any more arguments. Do you understand?”

In truth, Yuri did not understand. He did not understand why his grandfather was doing this to him, and he certainly did not understand this ridiculous notion of  _duty_ that he kept wittering on about.

What he did understand however was his grandfather’s facial expression. He’d seen the furrowed brow and thin line of his mouth many times over the years when he was being scolded. There would be no shifting his grandfather, and any attempt to do so may result in a punishment of some kind, something that Yuri knew he would not enjoy.

Biting back his protests, Yuri forced himself to nod. His grandfather mirrored the gesture, and with his face still set into a look of anger, he led Yuri down the narrow hall and into a modestly sized bedroom, with a trunk placed at the end of the small bed that Yuri recognized as the same one from his bedroom at home. He pursed his lips, fervently wishing he’d been more observant and noticed their servants moving his trunk to the carriage, though he supposed that had been the whole point—if he’d somehow seen them, he probably would not be here now.

Yuri watched helplessly as his grandfather offered him a quick nod, then left him alone in the room, and the silence was almost deafening. He had grown so accustomed to the sounds of the village that often pervaded his window, and before that, the familiar bustle of Moscow. The sounds beyond this small house were so few that Yuri felt almost as though he had suddenly become the last man on earth.

Yuri heaved a sigh as he sat down on the end of the bed, unwilling to change his clothes. He did not feel tired, despite the activities of the day, but he was also reluctant to change into something less modest, and risk this  _Altin_ seeing him like that.

A soft, sudden tapping upon his door drew Yuri from his thoughts. He growled under his breath, wondering what his grandfather wanted this time as he got up and stormed crossly over to the door, only to freeze when he flung it open, realising too late that it was  _not_ his grandfather.

“Altin,” Yuri said, his lips twisting into a frown. “What do you want?”

“I am Otabek,” he said in the same halting Russian as before. “May I come in?”

“No, you may not,” Yuri replied as he shot the alpha a glare. “We are unmarried, and if I had my way, that would not change. Coming into my room would be most improper. What do you want?”

“I am wishing to apologize for all this,” he said gruffly, and waved his hand significantly between them. “My Äke insists. I am trying to make best of it. Will you not help me do that?”

“Why should I?” Yuri asked as he frowned at the alpha. “I have nothing to gain from this match. It is our parents who get something out of it, not us.”

“I get beautiful dancer,” Altin said, his gaze softening a little as he looked at Yuri with his wide, dark eyes. “I want you to dance for me, Yuratchka. Willingly.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” Yuri said as he rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushing a little at the compliment. “I barely know you, A—erm, Otabek.”

“I am sorry for that,” Otabek said as he reached for Yuri, and his hopeful expression fell when Yuri jumped out of reach. “When you go home, we will exchange letters, yes? I can tell you things, and you can tell me things, and when we wed, we will not be strangers.”

“Can you even _write_ in Russian?” Yuri asked, his tone still acerbic, but slightly softened. Admittedly, the offer made Yuri less anxious about the whole farce of this marriage. If Otabek was truly as unwilling as Yuri, then perhaps it would not be so awful.

“I can read Russian, and I write well, I am thinking. My servant will help. And you will learn Kazakh.”

“Will I, now?”

“It is only fair, yes?” Otabek replied, a faint smile playing across his lips before the expression fell a little. “I am also thinking you do not like Kazakh...just the language, or people too?”

Yuri winced at the words, and he glanced away from his so-called fiancé. For a moment, he did not know how to answer, until he said reluctantly, “I cannot say that I know any,” he admitted, his face flushing with shame as he spoke. “I do not hate you because of your nationality, I just hate... _being here_ . I miss Russia, I miss Moscow, and I wish I was back there.”

“Why?”

“I was...” Yuri trailed off as he glanced back up at the alpha, who was staring at him with an aloof expression that Yuri could not identify. “I was on my way to an incredible career with the Russian Ballet when my grandfather was stationed here, and as an unmated omega with no other family, I could not stay behind. I suppose I am just...resentful of it all, and this marriage makes me feel like I will never escape.”

“I can try to let you feel happy,” Otabek offered, once more in his stunted, awkward Russian. “I can try. If you let me.”

“I doubt that you can,” Yuri replied, his insides squirming oddly as he gazed at the alpha, uncertain as to why he was speaking so _nicely_ to the man who would more or less own him soon enough. “I do not wish to be here, as you recall, so how can you make me happy?”

“I just know, Yuratchka,” Otabek said cryptically, his voice dropping to a soft purr as he smiled at the omega, making him blush a little, and Yuri glanced away in embarrassment.

Otabek reached for him, and added to Yuri’s embarrassment as he took the omega’s hand gently, and pressed a light kiss to the back of his knuckles.

“ _Qayırlı tün_ , Yuri,” Otabek said with a soft, disarming sort of smile, then strode away without looking back.

 


	4. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi guys, thank you so much for your continued support of this story, it’s really great to see. The next update will be November 11th. See you then ^.^

Chapter Three – Letters

 

The coach rumbled unpleasantly as Yuri and his grandfather headed back towards Samarkand, and he fumbled with the paper envelope in his hands. The wax seal seemed to shine in the moonlight, and Yuri ran his thumb over the slight indents of its design as he recalled Otabek’s last words to him.

 

“ _Save letter for your return to Samarkand, Yuri,” Otabek said as he brushed the back of Yuri’s hand gently. “I will await your reply.”_

_Otabek curled his fingers over Yuri’s hand, and he lifted the omega’s knuckles to his lips, brushing it with a soft, familiar kiss._

 

Yuri’s hand still tingled slightly where Otabek had kissed it, and he felt himself flush in the darkness of the coach, grateful that his grandfather would not be able to see his latent reaction. His fingers tensed around the letter, making the paper crinkle softly, and he gazed up at the moon, its light broken by wisps of dark cloud. They had been riding in the carriage all day, and now Yuri was anxious to get back home and find out what Otabek had to say. 

Not that he would ever  _admit_ to such a thing, but as it always did, curiosity had gotten the better of him once more.

“Have we any food left?” Yuri asked in an effort to distract himself, and his grandfather grunted, as though Yuri had suddenly roused him from sleep.

“We are almost home, Yuratchka,” his grandfather replied, his tone thick with drowsiness, “you may eat there.”

Yuri let out a little huff, but did not protest, his gaze falling again to the passing wilderness while he strove to think of  _anything_ but the letter in his hands.

 

The lanterns and houses of Samarkand filtered into Yuri’s line of sight slowly. Yuri hated that it had begun to feel like  _home_ to him. Wasn’t Moscow home?

_What is home?_ Yuri wondered melancholically, and his fingers tensed around the letter again. Soon, not even Samarkand would be home to him, and he didn’t like the uncertainty that came with that particular realization.

They reached their house within minutes, and Yuri felt himself flush when he staggered from the carriage, his legs stiff from the long journey, and he nearly fell. His grandfather did not remark on it, however, and the pair headed inside, where a small spread of sandwiches and wine had been laid out for them.

Yuri reluctantly set aside his letter, and helped himself to one of the sandwiches. His grandfather went for the wine, and sipped it thoughtfully before he asked the question that Yuri dreaded to hear.

“And what did you think of Private Altin, Yuratchka?”

“What does it matter what I think of him?” Yuri asked sourly as he dropped the sandwich back on the platter, his appetite disappearing. “It won’t change anything. I’ll still have to marry him.”

“Be that as it may, it is better if one actually _likes_ their prospective spouse,” his grandfather replied as he reached for a cracker topped with cheese, and ate it before he continued. “Private Altin is a good man, and this stubbornness is helping no one, Yuratchka. You will be married soon, a small passage of time for propriety’s sake must be observed, but after that you _will_ be wed. In that time, I suggest you accustom yourself to the idea before the actual day arrives.”

Yuri watched as his grandfather stood and strode from the room without looking back, then he heard the distant sound of his bedroom door slam shut.

Yuri ground his teeth, glaring at his grandfather’s abandoned glass of wine as though it, too, was criticising him. He slumped back in his chair as angry tears stung his eyes, and he glared down at the letter that was still clutched in his hands.

Believing that whatever his so-called  _fiancé_ had to say couldn’t possibly make him feel any worse, Yuri roughly tore open the envelope, and shook open the single sheet of paper. Inside was a letter penned in traditional Russian, written so elegantly that Yuri had a hard time believing that it was written by the same man, the one who had so much trouble even  _speaking_ Russian not a full day before.

 

_My Dear Yuri,_

_I apologize, belatedly, for the apocryphal quality of this letter. Certainly to you it seems ludicrous that one such as me, who struggles verbally with your language would pen such a thing, but I find that writing in Russian to be the easier task, and it comes to me more readily. My servant also aided in my composition of it, for I wished my intentions where you are concerned to be as plain as can be—I did not want this initially, much in the same way you likely are resistant to it. I must once again remind you that it was my father who organised this with the higher-ups; I had no part in it until I was informed that I had a fiancé. However, I am a soldier at heart, and despite my reservations, I have a duty to my people, and if my father tells me to wed, then I must do so._

_Despite this, I must admit that I was reluctant. You were the enemy, the invaders of my homeland; those who wish to shape us to your design, and not that of my heritage. How could I hope to build a home, a family, with an interloper?_

_My father, as you could imagine, would not hear my protests. It was done, and I was to be wed a few weeks after the first meeting between us._

_I, however, had other plans. I secreted away to Samarkand with the aid of your grandfather, and saw you dance._

_Until that moment, I had believed love at first sight to be a concept confined to the realm of fanciful tales, and had never entertained such a notion. You changed all that, Yuri._

_Perhaps it is foolish of me to say such a ridiculous thing. If it makes you think less of me, or perceive me as some sort of imbecile, I cannot find it in myself to feel ashamed. You dance like nature weaves the seasons—effortlessly. It is a pure beauty of which I have never seen, and your ferocity endears me to you further. Regardless of your social standing, you are fearless, and you are never afraid to speak your mind, no matter what you have to gain or lose by such a decision._

_I will do what I can to delay this wedding until you are more comfortable with the idea, but I admit I find myself hoping it is sooner, rather than later. In this however, I am willing to wait for you, if you’ll have me. I am a bumbling soldier, a boy before an effervescent god. Know that if I could stop it for us to get to know one another at a more natural pace, I would, but even my ability to stay my father’s hand has its limits._

_I look forward to your response,_

_Pt. Otabek Altin_

 

Yuri read and reread the letter several more times, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. He wanted to believe it, but could he? Otabek’s admittance that he had not chosen this either was hard for Yuri to wrap his head around, though his reasoning made sense to him. 

It was only when the fire had burned down to glowing coals that Yuri finally gave in to his exhaustion and headed to bed, the letter still clutched tightly in his hands.

 

~*~

 

_Dear Otabek,_

_I thank you for your letter, it was indeed beautifully crafted, and admittedly I struggled to believe that you wrote it, given your difficulties with my native tongue during our initial meeting._

_You are right in your assumption that I did not want this. I grew up in Moscow, and my only desire was to dance with the Russian Ballet, something I doubt I will be able to do as a wed omega. I fear that I do not know what to expect with you, but given your vocation, I know that I will spend many days and nights in the same way I have spent them with my grandfather—alone. I have no illusions about this conflict between my people and yours ending any time soon, and I know that you will likely be called to war sooner, rather than later._

_I find myself flattered by your description of me, and though I thank you for the compliments, I am uncertain how to answer to them. I think you would call me foolish or a liar if I claimed that I have never been called such a thing before—I have, many times—but even during my days and nights in the sparkling city of my home, I was never one to dally with unbonded alphas, and so I was often shielded from them by my guardians._

_Thank you for taking the time to write to me,_

_Yuri Plisetsky_

 

Yuri stared down at his completed letter, his mouth twisted into a grimace as he read it over. His handwriting was not quite as elegant as Otabek’s, and he had no idea why he’d felt compelled to lay himself bare in such a fashion to someone who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger to him. 

“Yuuri?” Yuri called out, and he watched with vague amusement as the servant rushed into his room and bowed.

“Master Yuri?” he asked, his voice small and shy, but Yuri noted that there was a purple mark upon his servant’s throat that had been poorly hidden by the collar of his shirt. “How can I be of service?”

_Perhaps first tell me whom you have been servicing?_ Yuri thought, but banished the notion almost immediately as he folded the letter in his hands, tucked it into an envelope. He proceeded to seal it with wax before he addressed it and held it out to his servant.

“Take this to our post boy,” Yuri instructed, “have him deliver it to Private Otabek Altin as soon as possible.” He paused, his eyes caught upon the blemish again, and he added, “but fix your collar before you go.”

Yuuri paled, clearly horrified that he had been caught, though his reaction was not without just cause. Marriage within the lower classes—from what Yuri understood—tended to be complicated. One could not swear fealty to a husband or wife as well as a master, after all, but something about the fear in his servant’s eyes told Yuri that there was more to this—most likely, Yuuri was seeing someone outside of his social class, which as highly frowned upon.

More than frowned upon, Yuri knew that his grandfather could easily sell Yuuri for such a transgression, and the servant would be condemned to something even worse than a sacking—a lifetime of slavery.

Something in the terrified look upon the oriental’s face tugged at Yuri’s heart. He held up a hand, signalling for Yuuri to wait, and hastened to his vanity, where he grabbed his concealment powder, and pressed it into Yuuri’s hands.

“Add some darker pigment to it to match your skin tone,” Yuri instructed softly, “and apply it to the area. Be discreet with your application of it, and it should hide the evidence of your...encounter.”

“Thank you, Master,” Yuuri replied, his eyes wide with wonder as he gazed from Yuri to the box now held aloft in his hand, and back to the young aristocrat. “If it is not too bold to query...why? Why not tell your grandfather of my...indiscretion?”

“I may not have been able to choose my own spouse, but you should,” Yuri replied, his tone on the edge between earnest and forceful. “If my grandfather ever sends you away after I am wed, come to me, and I will shelter you.”

Yuuri appeared to want to ask again why Yuri was saying all this. He had never been one to be outwardly considerate of anyone but himself, and likely Yuri’s shift in attitude towards the servant was jarring, to say the least. Instead, Yuuri bowed deeply, and adjusted his shirt’s collar before he raced from the room.

 

~*~

 

_Dear Yuri,_

_I thank you for the compliment—admittedly, I have much more trouble speaking your language than writing it, as you have seen with my letters. I will do my best to learn to speak it better, though I hope you, in turn, will make some effort to learn Kazakh._

_Though perhaps that is too optimistic of me—I can understand why you are so resistant to the culture and language here, and do not fault you for it._

_When it comes to expectations, I have every intention of taking you to bed the night of our nuptials, and I hope you will concede to bearing me a child. While I feel that it is abhorrent to force such a thing on a beta woman or omega man, it is something that I want, and hope that you do too._

_As for being called to war, the protectiveness of my father earns me some level of safety, and I am merely a guard for the nearby settlement in the mountains. I cannot guarantee that I will always be there, there is certainly a chance I could be called away, but in truth I cannot see it happening for a while yet._

_I hope you are not made too uncomfortable by my compliments. I find you lovely in many ways, and while part of me wishes to insist that you feel flattered by my words, at the same time I feel that that might be impudent of me to claim that you should feel one way or another by my descriptions of you._

_I have plans to come to Samarkand soon and visit with you soon, perhaps a walk, accompanied by a chaperone? Would you like that?_

_Do not feel compelled to say yes to please me, but then, something tells me that you are not the kind to do something like that. Your refusal to put on airs for the sake of etiquette is another facet of your personality that I truly admire._

_I hope to hear from you soon,_

_Pt. Otabek Altin_

 

Yuri set down the letter, and was smiling a little despite himself. It may be too premature to say so with any level of certainty, but Yuri found that Otabek’s considerations were sweet, rather than demeaning. He could see in the soldier’s words that he was truly trying his best to approach Yuri in a respectful way, rather than like a pigheaded alpha who truly felt that they were above certain moral laws.

Quickly, and with a note of keenness to his actions, Yuri grabbed a sheet of blank paper, a pen, and ink, and began to draft a response.

 

_Dear Otabek,_

_Under normal circumstances, my response to your tentative request may have been a vehement “no!” but for you, perhaps I could try. It still rubs me the wrong way to interact in any language but my mother tongue, though I admit part of that mindset is very likely spurred on by my overall dislike of being here, and not home in Moscow._

_Admittedly, I have never given much thought to children. One cannot dance while with child, though I know that my family, as well as yours, will expect it of me, once we are married. Knowing that, I still do not know what to think about it, though I admit that I am more nervous about our wedding night than anything else relating to this...partnership._

_I hope that it is true that you will stay a while after we are wed; I feel that all of this will be easier to come to terms with if you are around, and not off somewhere else._

_I do not find your compliments uncomfortable, but certainly I am unused to them in such volume. I cannot recall any time when I had to deal with overzealous admirers, and so your words are somewhat pleasing, but also new to me._

_I would very much like to see you. These letters have shown me a side of you I had not expected to be privy to so soon in our situation, and I feel that you were right that first night—if this keeps up, when we are wed, we will no longer be strangers._

_I look forward to seeing you,_

_Yuri_

 

Yuri looked over the letter, his bottom lip caught between his teeth while he tried to decide if he sounded too eager. He did not wish to give Otabek the impression that he was fully approving of this situation—he  _wasn’t_ —but neither could he deny that he  _wanted_ to see the soldier, and the idea of walking with him, or taking tea with him, the thought made his stomach flutter with a feeling that he could not wholly identify. 

“I’m not falling for him or his capriciousness,” Yuri told himself as he folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope, before he carefully wrote out Otabek’s name and address on the front, before finally sealing it with wax. “I am merely doing what I can to avoid any emotional discomfort for after we are wed.”

Yuri wanted to believe his own words, but as he passed the sealed letter to his servant, his heart still fluttering with anticipation for Otabek’s visit, he realized that he did not wholly believe it.

 


	5. Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for November 25th. Please note that I am participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and while this shouldn't interfere with my updates at all, if there is a delay, that will be why :P

Chapter Four – Visit

 

Yuri pulled on his coat with a mask of cool disinterest. His grandfather was far too hopeful about Otabek's visit to Samarkand, and Yuri wasn't about to let Nikolai in about how much he was actually looking forward to it.

Besides, Yuuri was displaying enough excitement for the both of them, as far as Yuri was concerned.

“What's Master Otabek like?” Yuuri asked, his voice on the side of breathless. “Is he handsome?”

“Don't call him _Master_ ,” Yuri instructed distractedly as he looked himself over in the mirror. “He is not master over anyone, especially not you.”

_Or me,_ Yuri thought to himself.

“You didn't answer my question, Master Yuri,” Yuuri said, his tone almost discourteous, and certainly too familiar for a master and servant. However, for some odd reason, Yuri found that he didn't mind it.

“And what question might that be?”

“Is Mas—is Otabek handsome?”

“Unfortunately,” Yuri replied with a small, wry smile, and Yuuri raised his eyebrows curiously.

“Sir?” Yuuri asked, “why unfortunately?”

“Because maybe if he was hideous this would be easier to reject,” Yuri replied with a wince. “He has dark hair and dark eyes, olive skin...he's tall, and when he speaks to you, regardless how awkward his speech is, he regards you so intensely, it's like you're the only two people in the world. And...he's so unapologetic with his affections. He has this almost... _dangerous_ aura to him, like he could be cruel if he wanted to, but he never is. He's considerate, kind, sweet...”

Yuri shook himself, stopping the explanation short. It was _far_ too soon to feel any sort of affection towards his betrothed...wasn't it?

His servant, unfortunately, was not fooled, and offered Yuri a knowing smile.

 

~*~

 

Yuri did his best to not fidget with anticipation as they stood outside to await Otabek's arrival not twenty minutes after their brief conversation. Yuuri was his chaperone for the day, and he continued to shoot Yuri sidelong glances of amusement, though he seemed to know better than to remark on it openly.

The pair waited for Otabek's carriage to arrive, and Yuri fidgeted impatiently, doing his best to ignore Yuuri, who looked far too happy about his master's anticipatory air. Private Nikiforov was hanging about as well, keeping an eye on them while they waited, though if Yuri wasn't mistaken, it seemed as though Viktor was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of Yuri's servant.

Yuri shook his head, and refocused his attention on waiting for Otabek's carriage. It was due any moment, but that did little to warm Yuri up. It was bitingly cold outside, and even wrapped in his warmest furs, Yuri still shivered as he waited.

Instead of a carriage however, Yuri heard the sharp gallop of a single horse, and when he glanced up, he saw a soldier approaching, sitting astride a large, dark horse, and the man who rode it Yuri instantly recognized as Otabek.

“You're right, Master Yuri,” Yuuri murmured into his ear, half in jest. “He _is_ handsome.”

“Mind your tone with Otabek so near,” Yuri murmured back. “You are getting quite familiar with me, and though I do not protest it, I have a feeling an alpha like him might.”

Yuuri inclined his head once in understanding, and pressed his lips together, saying no more. He did not appear hurt by Yuri's gentle admonishment, which was a relief. He actually liked Yuuri, and his company; his wit was sharp, despite the fellow omega's outward visage of a meek servant. There was more to him, and Yuri liked that.

“Yuri,” Otabek said as he slowed to a stop, and dismounted. His horse stomped the ground a few times, which Otabek paid no mind to as he bowed low to Yuri, and ignored his chaperone completely. “It is good to be seeing you again.”

“Erm, likewise, I suppose,” Yuri replied, his face warming as Otabek took Yuri's gloved hand, and kissed the back of it. It was familiar, but foreign at the same time, and the touch made Yuri feel as though dozens of butterflies had been set loose in his chest.

Otabek smirked, as though he knew what sort of reaction the small show of affection had caused, and it made Yuri's flush only worsen. The man wasn't even _trying_ to be gentlemanly, and yet it came to him as easily as breathing.

Suddenly, the concept that he could fall so fast for the alpha did not seem so outlandish, after all.

 

~*~

 

After Otabek stabled his horse at Yuri and Nikolai's residence, he escorted Yuri down the main street, though made no mention of where he intended on taking him.

Unfortunately, as they walked, Yuri and Otabek fell into an awkward, almost painful silence.

In that moment, Yuri realized that he had absolutely _no idea_ what to say to his fiancé.

And by the look of things, it seemed as though the same was true for Otabek.

“Erm...” Yuri began, eager to break the silence, “how have things been...at your home?”

As soon as the words passed his lips, Yuri wanted to take them back. What a _ridiculous_ question to ask.

Otabek turned to him, lips parted slightly, and his eyes were a little wider than usual.

He stared back at Yuri, as though he had no idea what to say in response.

“It is...good?” Otabek replied at last, forming the answer as a question seemingly by accident, and they both laughed a little.

“You're nervous,” Yuri said, his tone almost accusing, and Otabek reached out as though to touch him, but seemed to recall where they were and how improper that would be, and dropped his hand reluctantly to his side.

“You make me nervous, Yuratchka,” Otabek replied, his voice little more than a soft, almost sensuous purr.

“Do I?”

“Yes. You have such... _presence_ ,” Otabek said, and Yuri fidgeted as they walked, feeling the words course through him like strong wine, making him dizzy.

“Should I say thank you, or apologize?” Yuri asked with a nervous laugh, and Otabek smiled a little.

“Perhaps both,” he admitted, chuckling a little when Yuri flushed. “Come, we are almost there.”

Otabek led Yuri to a side-street, Yuuri trailing behind them to both give the couple space, and keep an eye on them concurrently. There, Yuri discovered the destination for their outing was an open-air market, with street vendors selling finger-food, hot drinks, and all manner of wares, both from Samarkand as well as the surrounding villages.

Otabek guided Yuri over to a stall selling _sbiten,_ and paid for three mugs, including one for Yuuri, which took both omegas by surprise.

“ _Raxmet,”_ Otabek said as he accepted both his change and the drinks from the vendor before he passed them out, and Yuuri stared at his own for a long time before he finally blew on it, and took a sip of the warming drink.

“That's very kind of you,” Yuri remarked, his smile widening a little when he took note of Otabek's olive cheeks tinting a faint red.

“I try to consider all, not just my equals,” Otabek admitted, “my father thinks I am foolish for it, but I don't care.”

“I'd say it's thoughtful, not foolish,” Yuri offered, and he was gifted with a faint smile from the alpha.

Yuri and Otabek wandered through the market, their hands brushing occasionally from standing so close together, but neither seemed to have the nerve to actually hold hands in public. It would be improper for an unwed couple to do so, but Yuri could not wholly deny that pull to brush aside propriety, and grab hold of Otabek's almost offending limb.

At the stand of a weaver, Otabek bought Yuri a beautiful woven shawl of ice-blue and white, and Yuri smiled as he wrapped it around his neck and shoulders, and listened to Otabek speak to the weaver in Kazakh.

His accent was not harsh, and he spoke in Kazakh with more emotion than he did in Russian, given that it was his mother tongue. Still, his voice was deep and even, and flowed over Yuri like smooth, dark chocolate.

“I like how you speak,” Yuri blurted out after they'd walked away, and he felt his face warm in embarrassment.

Otabek turned to him, his eyebrow arched in confusion, and Yuri felt his embarrassment become more pronounced.

“I mean...oh, this sounded better in my mind, but you...speak...well...”

“Thank you, I think,” Otabek replied, his confusion still apparent in his tone, though there was a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Will you teach me something?” Yuri asked. “In Kazakh, I mean?”

“What would you like to learn?” Otabek asked, once again arching a brow, and Yuri shrugged a little.

“Anything. You choose.”

“All right,” Otabek agreed, smirking a little, though it seemed to be an expression of gentle amusement, rather than something devious. “Repeat after _me—Sizben.”_

“ _Sizben,”_ Yuri repeated, doing his best to mirror Otabek's accent.

“ _Bïlewge.”_

“ _Bïlewge.”_

“ _Bola.”_

“ _Bola.”_

“ _Ma.”_

“ _Ma_ ,” Yuri finished, and repeated the phrase in full, “ _Sizben bïlewge bola ma_. What does it mean?”

“It means, _will you dance with me?_ ”

Otabek's eyes slid away from Yuri, and towards one of the other stalls, where a quartet of violinists were plucking their instruments and warming up. Then, he glanced back to Yuri, his eyes alight with the request, and Yuri, once again, felt himself warm under Otabek's intense stare.

“All right, I will dance _with_ you,” Yuri replied, smiling wryly, just as the musicians began to play.

Otabek chuckled, clearly understanding the distinction, and took Yuri's hands, leaving their mostly-empty _sbiten_ mugs behind with Yuuri while they moved to the open space of the market with a few other couples, and began to dance.

Yuri had not known what to expect, but in all his wildest fantasies, he had not expected Otabek to dance beautifully.

Otabek's style was harsher than Yuri's—harder, and less fluid. In a way, he danced how he spoke, and led Yuri with him, but never once did he make Yuri feel as though he was somehow _less_. He was led, yes, but never once did their movements make him feel as though he was somehow _beneath_ Otabek.

They were equals.

The music was a waltz of some kind, the music a little flat from the instruments being exposed to the cold, but no less beautiful as Yuri and Otabek altered their dance, guiding and leading in equal measure, and when Otabek spun Yuri out, pulling him close a moment later so that Yuri was crushed against his warm chest, Yuri felt his breath still, his palms pressed to the front of Otabek's coat, and despite the thick layers, Yuri was almost certain he could feel the quick thrum of Otabek's heart beneath the layers.

Yuri's own heart pounded, though it was difficult for him to tell if it was from nerves or something else. Every time Otabek pulled him close, Yuri felt his breath still, and it happened so often that he began to worry that he might faint.

_Is it possible to feel like this so quickly?_ Yuri wondered as the song came to an end, and panting a little, he turned, intending to step back over to Yuuri and resume their outing. It was only then that Yuri noticed that everyone had stopped to watch them dance.

The visitors to the market encircled Yuri and Otabek, and were all applauding them. Yuri felt his face flush as Otabek led him in a bow, which made their spectators clap more loudly, and a few let out an enthusiastic cheer.

“ _Raxmet!_ ” Yuri cried out, and a few of the Kazakh onlookers laughed at Yuri warmly, while Otabek put an arm around him, squeezing once, before he quickly dropped it. Even so, the touch was enough to transport some of the spectators into fits, chattering breathlessly about such a display of affection, while Yuri and Otabek meandered back towards Yuuri, and took back their mugs of _sbiten_ , which Yuri quickly drained the remnants of.

“Come back to my grandfather's home for dinner,” Yuri said, brazenly reaching for Otabek's hand when they had made it away from the crowds, and to the edge of the market, where they left their empty mugs with the _sbiten_ vendor.

Though Yuri intended words to be a request, it came out more as a demand, which made Otabek smile.

“And what shall I taste, if I accept invitation?” Otabek asked, his voice thick as he tried to sound suave, but given his limitations with the language, it came out a little awkwardly. “May I taste...your lips?”

“What a bold request,” Yuri remarked, smiling as he inched closer to Otabek, while their fingers threaded together again. “My kiss is sweeter than the finest wine, are you certain you have the heart to taste it?”

“Oh, yes,” Otabek breathed, pausing in the street, and pulling Yuri slowly to a stop.

Technically, Yuuri should have called a halt to such inappropriate behaviour of his charge. Instead, he merely smiled, and exchanged a nod with Yuri, who smirked faintly as he shifted his eyes back to Otabek, who was gazing at him imploringly, waiting for permission.

Yuri got up on his toes, moving his gloved hand to brush along the ridge of Otabek's strong jaw. The alpha's lips parted slightly in surprise at the touch, and Yuri felt Otabek exhale slightly, his warm breath ghosting across Yuri's cheek as he leant in, closer, and closer, until their lips met.

Otabek tasted of honey and the spices that had been infused in the drinks they had shared. His kiss was soft, tentative, as though he was afraid of making Yuri uncomfortable, but longed to assume the role of the dominant partner at the same time.

The alpha's hand fell to the small of Yuri's back, and held him close. Yuri let out a tiny sigh as he tried to extend the kiss, his heart soaring at the feel of it.

When at last Otabek pulled back, he murmured, “are we still strangers, Yuri?”

“No,” Yuri replied, just as softly, but certainly, and he moved in to peck Otabek's lips again. “We are most certainly not strangers anymore.”

Otabek beamed, his joy so apparent that it did not need words, and as one, the couple turned and headed back towards Yuri's home.

 


	6. Breaking the Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be December 9th, and that post (chapter six) will be the _last update_ before the holidays. Chapter seven will be up on January 6th. I'm really sorry for the massive delay, but I have no internet at home, and trying to find time during the holidays to post is really tough, so it's easier on me to just wait until the holidays are over. 
> 
> Just to reiterate: This is not the last post preceding the holidays, the next one is.

Chapter Five – Breaking the Rules

 

Walking back home, Yuri almost wanted to skip. The kiss had left him feeling slightly drunk, and already he felt a deep desire to grab Otabek and do it again.

“What do you do when you're not a soldier?” Yuri suddenly asked. He was keen to distract himself from thoughts of Otabek's lips, and the alpha started a little at the sudden question.

“When I'm _not_ a soldier?” he asked, and Yuri nodded.

“Hobbies, interests—that sort of thing.”

“Well,” Otabek began, reaching out to touch Yuri's cheek, and he earned a faint smile from the omega, “I am _always_ soldier. Are you not _always_ dancer, even when you are not dancing?”

“True,” Yuri admitted, and offered Otabek an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry if I offended you.”

“It is nothing,” Otabek said with a lazy wave of his hand. “And I do many things when I have no duty. I play piano and race horse.”

“How do you race whores?” Yuri asked curiously, and suddenly Otabek went very red.

“No, horse. _Horse_.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Yuri went as red as Otabek, before they both began to laugh. “I'm sorry.”

 

Their mood was still light and still giggly from the verbal slip when the couple made it to the house. They stepped inside and shed their outer clothes, though Yuri was a little reluctant to set aside the shawl that Otabek had bought for him. Yuuri caught this hesitation in an instant, and offered Yuri a knowing smile.

Hastily, Yuri hung up the garment.

“Is your Dedushka here?” Otabek asked curiously once they'd gotten down to their indoor clothing, and Otabek's hand moved to cover Yuri's tentatively, but at the same time with a certainty that made Yuri's heart thrum. It was as though Otabek wanted to show Yuri how he was wanted, but at the same time appeared reluctant to overstep his bounds—Yuri appreciated it deeply.

“I don't think so,” Yuri said as he led Otabek deeper into the house, their fingers intertwining almost unconsciously, though Yuri had no intent to knock himself back to reality and pull his hand away for the sake of propriety. Such touching in a private home was not as improper as it would be in public, but still, holding Otabek's hand like this felt almost like a thrilling indecency, and Yuri had to bite his lip to keep from smiling too broadly.

“You have beautiful home,” Otabek remarked, his low, throaty voice making Yuri shiver with delight, though he did his best to conceal this fact. For Yuri, it seemed best for his fiancé to _not_ know just how strongly that kiss was still affecting him.

“Thank you,” Yuri replied at last, smiling at Otabek a little, and the soldier offered Yuri's hand a little squeeze.

“Beautiful house for beautiful dancer,” he continued, bowing to brush a kiss to the top of Yuri's knuckles, and for a moment, Yuri wondered why Otabek did not simply kiss him outright like he had before, but then he spotted Viktor sauntering into the room out of the corner of his eye, and Yuri bit back a groan of frustration as the soldier stepped up to them.

“Master Yuri, Private Otabek,” Viktor said, nodding to Otabek, and offering Yuri a short bow, “and your escort, of course,” he continued, nodding to Yuuri, who offered the soldier a weak smile. “You have returned sooner than expected; your grandfather asked that I watch the house while he is gone.”

“I invited Otabek to dinner,” Yuri explained quickly, before Viktor found an excuse to send the alpha away. “When will Dedushka be back?”

“He will likely be home in time for supper,” Viktor said with a small smile. “Come, let us sit, and your servant can perhaps fetch us something to eat.”

“Yes, of course,” Yuuri said, bowing again to his superiors. “I will be not a moment.”

With that, the omega darted from the front hall, and towards the kitchens.

“Come,” Viktor said, his voice kind but firm, clapping Otabek on the shoulder, and he began to steer the alpha towards the sitting room, and pointedly away from Yuri. “This is not the time for unnecessary displays, it is time to eat.”

Yuri pursed his lips, but did not dare protest as he followed the two alphas to the sitting room. He knew that by _unnecessary_ Viktor likely meant _inappropriate,_ and Yuri almost bristled with anger at the implication. They were doing _nothing_ wrong!

_Viktor is always the perfect soldier,_ Yuri thought sourly as he sat across from Otabek and Viktor upon one of the armchairs. _I feel like his whole head might explode if he ever did the smallest thing out of line._

In under twenty minutes, Yuuri returned with a platter of _Zakuski,_ with one of the household maids following him and carrying a pot of strong tea and cups. Neither spoke, and bowed their way out, though Yuri did not miss how Yuuri's eyes seemed to linger on Viktor.

_I hope that he is not the object of your affections, Yuuri, he is far too afraid of rule-breaking to give up his life of luxury for one like you,_ Yuri thought, waiting for the two alphas to serve themselves before Yuri took a cup of tea and a small, sweet pastry.

The chitchat, predictably, did not include Yuri, despite that fact that he would be expected to be present during the course of it. Viktor grilled Otabek on aspects of his life, where he lived, where he'd been stationed, his preferred horse—everything, except for his engagement to Yuri.

Almost as though he didn't approve of it.

Yuri pursed his lips, uncertain what to make of that supposition. He sipped his tea, watching the alphas talk, while Otabek occasionally glanced towards Yuri, his expression apologetic. To this, Yuri couldn't help but smile—at least not _all_ alphas treated omegas as though they were invisible.

For close to two hours, Viktor and Otabek chatted politely, though it almost seemed as though neither man liked each other very much. However, this did not impede their polite decorum whatsoever, though both looked mightily relieved when the sound of the front door opening broke through the silence, announcing Nikolai's return.

“Yuri, Otabek, you returned early,” Nikolai said as he stepped into the sitting room, brushing his hands over his uniform as he spoke, smoothing out a few invisible creases as he slowed to a stop before them. “I had not expected you until later.”

“I invited him for dinner,” Yuri filled in, smiling shyly at his grandfather, who turned from the alphas to regard him, his expression both disapproving and joyous. Yuri wasn't surprised by this—it wasn't exactly polite for an omega to speak out like he had, but really, did his grandfather expect any less of him?

“I was keeping an eye on things until you returned, sir,” Viktor added, “the young master has been remarkably well-behaved.”

Yuri pursed his lips again as he fought the urge to glare at Viktor for his remark. In most contexts, _well-behaved_ usually meant _quiet_.

“My Yuratchka is _always_ well-behaved,” Nikolai replied with a warm, almost teasing chuckle, making Yuri frown. He hated it when alphas spoke as though he was invisible.

Or worse, like he was a _child_.

However, despite this, there was a small ray of sunshine in the unpleasant situation—Otabek was frowning as he gazed at Nikolai, as though he disapproved of Viktor and Nikolai's comments wholeheartedly.

That small reaction, more than anything else, gave Yuri hope that this marriage just might work out, after all.

 

Nikolai dismissed Viktor, and immediately his whole demeanour seemed to soften as he turned to Yuri and clapped him on the shoulder, and Yuri relaxed as Nikolai Plisetsky seemed to transform before his eyes back into his Deduskha.

“Would you like to sit beside Otabek, Yuri?” Nikolai asked as he sat in his usual armchair, while Yuri poured a cup of tea for his grandfather and handed it to him before he sat down again, just as Nikolai's words registered in his mind while he added, “I want to hear _all_ about your day out.”

Yuri very nearly jumped from his seat to join Otabek, who offered Yuri a soft, sweet smile as he gazed at him, and seemed to be reigning in the urge to reach out and touch him. Despite his grandfather's openness, Yuri knew that even something as simple as hand-holding would be viewed as an inappropriate gesture.

Instead, Yuri distracted himself by sharing with Otabek the telling of their day, from Otabek buying them sbiten to his kind gift of the shawl, and their dance.

Though, wisely, neither of them mentioned the kiss.

“And then I invited him to dinner, and we came back here,” Yuri finished, smiling warmly as he chanced a glance towards Otabek. “He is an excellent host, Dedushka, it was a _lovely_ day.”

“Well,” Nikolai said as he clapped his hands together, “if we are to have a guest for dinner, I say we break out the meat. I know our servant, Yuuri, has been ageing a lovely boar just for an occasion such as this. Otabek, what say you?”

“It sounds wonderful, sir,” Otabek said politely. “I am certain anything you serve would be enough for humble soldier such as myself.”

“Modesty, good, good,” Nikolai replied with an approving nod of his head, “that was why you were chosen for my grandson. Your nature will soften him, and you are an excellent soldier, or so I am told, and you will be able to protect an omega, if it is ever needed.”

Otabek flushed a faint pink under Nikolai's praise, and once again Yuri felt it—that confusing, conflicting sensation of both pride and shame, as well as frustration. Was it really so difficult for his grandfather to believe that Yuri could look after himself, and he did not need a big, strong alpha to do it for him?

And yet...

Yuri's gaze slid over to Otabek, who was smiling humbly in response to Nikolai's words, and he felt his heart thrum in his chest.

If anyone was to wed him, Yuri was glad that it was Otabek.

 

“You two, mind you behave, I will be back in a moment, I just need to inform Yuuri of our preference for dinner,” Nikolai said, his voice stern, and Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Dedushka—” he protested, but the hard look did not leave the older man's eyes. Yuri huffed in annoyance and nodded, and apparently satisfied with this, Nikolai turned and walked out of the sitting room, towards the kitchens.

 

“ _Psst,_ _Yuri,”_ Otabek whispered once Nikolai's footsteps had faded into silence. Yuri moved to turn towards his fiancé, the word _what_ perched on his tongue, but it never made it past his lips as Otabek caught him with a sweet, brief kiss.

“You're such a...a... _rebel_ ,” Yuri said with a soft laugh, and Otabek responded with a small smirk. Yuri's eyes drifted over to the hall as he checked for any sign that his grandfather might be coming back, and luckily, saw none. He swept in for a kiss of his own, drawing it out as long as he dared before he pulled back, and smiled at Otabek bashfully.

“Perhaps in misbehaviour, we are perfectly matched,” Otabek said, and Yuri laughed.

“I _completely_ agree.”

 

~*~

 

Dinner was a pleasant affair, and markedly different than the last meal the three men had shared. This time, Yuri felt no animosity towards either of them, and he was content to eat and chat with both of them while he snuck innocent touches with Otabek under the table. Their fingers or hands would twine together seemingly on instinct more than anything else, and Yuri would bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too broadly.

 

“Well, if you two are finished, I think it's time for something sweet!” Nikolai said, eyeing the couples' empty plates while Yuri and Otabek exchanged a knowing look.

_There is nothing sweeter than Otabek's kisses,_ Yuri thought, and nearly blushed. It was such a silly thing to think, but that made it no less true. Otabek's kisses _were_ sweet, and Yuri was finding himself looking forward more and more to the day that they were wed, so Yuri might enjoy them more often, rather than having to wait.

Yuri refocused his attention on the conversation at hand, just as his grandfather was boasting about the strawberries he'd imported from the south, and the cream parfaits that Yuuri was making with them.

“One taste, and you will dance and sing, Otabek, I guarantee it!” Nikolai said with a warm laugh, indicative more of the fact that he'd had too much wine than anything else, but both Yuri and Otabek smiled, allowing the older man to prattle on uninterrupted. At last, Nikolai clapped his hands together as he called, “ _Yuuri! Bring out the parfaits you have prepared!_ ”

Silence followed the call.

Yuri exchanged a bemused look with Otabek, while his grandfather clapped his hands again.

“ _Yuuri!_ ” he called again, “ _bring out the parfaits!_ ”

Once more, no answer followed his words.

“Now, what could be keeping him?” Nikolai asked, more to himself than to Yuri or Otabek, and planted his hands on the arms of his chair. “Of all the times to grant himself a leave, why would he do it when we have company?”

Nikolai began to pull himself up, but something told Yuri that it might be best for him to _not_ look for Yuri's preferred servant. Nikolai tended to sack first, and ask questions later, and Yuri was quite keen to _not_ lose Yuuri to unemployment.

“I'll go look for him, Dedushka,” Yuri said quickly as he leapt from his seat before Nikolai had finished getting up. “It is likely that he's gone to the latrine, and I am sure he'll be back in a moment. I will go and see. It would only be proper, since we are both of the omega persuasion.”

Yuri said all of this in one breath, but if he appeared at all suspicious to his grandfather's keen eye, Nikolai did not seem to catch it. Instead, he nodded, and eased back down onto the seat.

“All right,” he conceded. “Do be quick about it, Yuri, I want the parfait that was promised me.”

Yuri smirked, amused by his grandfather's almost ridiculous love of strawberries, before he nodded and headed for the kitchens.

 

~*~

 

The kitchen, with its enormous cooking fire, large space for food preparation, and hanging meats and drying herbs dangling from the ceiling completed the scene of the magnificent room, and indeed it was much larger than most kitchens in villager homes. However, it was still small enough that Yuri could look across the entire expanse in one sweep of his eyes without interruption.

It was empty, save for the three parfait glasses upon the countertop, placed delicately upon a serving platter and ready to be brought out, but Yuuri was nowhere to be seen. The servant's own supper had been picked clean, and the empty plate bore only a few pieces of bone and herb stems, but was otherwise was empty, and the two wine glasses next to it had been drained.

Yuri paused.

_Two_ wine glasses?

Before Yuri could ponder on it further, he heard a soft scuffle of something large and heavy hitting a door. It was far too loud to be a mouse or rat, and was most assuredly a person, but the origin of the sound was coming, most curiously, from the food pantry. In addition, it sounded almost like the person had intended to fall, but at the same time was doing their best to remain quiet.

Curiosity piqued, Yuri tiptoed towards the door, and paused momentarily outside of it, rocking on his heels as he tried to decide what to do. However, a soft moan sounded from inside, almost as though the person was in pain, and that made the decision for him.

Yuri flung open the door.

He stared, wide-eyed, just as Yuuri and Viktor let out dual cries of surprise, and leapt apart.

 


	7. Conflicted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the LAST pre-holiday update. Next update will be January 6th. 
> 
> Thank you guys for your comments and support, please enjoy this update, and keep a weather-eye on my feed, because though this is the last pre-holiday update for this fic, I do have an Otayuri Christmas oneshot in the works, which I hope to have up soon. Everyone have a safe and happy season, and I'll see you all in the new year! ^.^

Chapter Six – Conflicted

 

“I _knew_ it!”

The words had flown from Yuri's mouth before he could fully think them through, while he pointed an accusing finger at the pair. Before Yuri could say anything else, Yuuri promptly dissolved into tears.

Viktor blanched, but was quick to pull Yuuri into a close embrace, frowning at Yuri, all sense of propriety apparently forgotten as he tried to console his omega.

However, Yuuri did not seem to be in the mood for comfort as he jerked away from Viktor and all but launched himself at Yuri. He fell to his knees, and clung to the hem of Yuri's dinner jacket, his eyes still shiny with tears.

“P-Please, M-Master Yuri,” Yuuri begged between sobs, “p-please, it is not what you think, _please don't dismiss me_ , I'll never even _look_ at him again, I swear—”

“Yuuri, Yuuri, _breathe_ ,” Yuri said, grabbing the servant's forearms as he dragged the brunet to his feet. He was still openly weeping while Viktor stood back, his expression visibly nervous and conflicted. “I have no intention of telling my dedushka, _or_ dismissing you. I had my suspicions, remember? I told you to use my concealer for that mark, _remember_? It is all right, I am not cross, but I need you to calm down—my dedushka and Otabek believe you have taken a trip to the latrine, and it will not do for you to step out in front of them looking as though someone has died.”

“S-step out?” Yuuri asked, sniffing sharply as he tried to calm down, nodding his head in thanks when Yuri offered him a handkerchief, mopping his eyes and blowing his nose.

“Dedushka has been calling, asking for the parfaits you have prepared,” Yuri explained, forcing his voice to remain level, so as to not upset his servant further. “I said that business about the latrine because I suspected you were occupied with... _someone_...” Yuri glanced at Viktor, whose cheeks flushed a faint pink, before Yuri refocused his attention on his distraught servant. “I didn't want to give my dedushka an excuse to dismiss you, and so I came looking in his stead.”

“Well,” Viktor said nervously, “obviously I don't need to be here—”

“Move, and you're dead, Private,” Yuri said sternly, and Viktor's eyes widened both at his tone, and his use of Viktor's rank. The soldier froze, staring at the two omegas as Yuri helped to calm Yuuri down, before at last he smiled both in thanks and apology at Yuri. He stepped away from his master in order to press a cold compress to his eyes, likely in the hopes of hiding the fact that he'd been crying from Nikolai and Otabek.

While Yuuri was occupied, Yuri shifted his glare back to Viktor, who looked politely perplexed at the young aristocrat's expression.

“What is your goal, Viktor?” Yuri asked, softly enough that Yuuri was unlikely to overhear.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What is your _goal_ with Yuuri?” Yuri demanded, his eyes narrowing into a glare once again. “Is he just _convenient_ for you, or is it more? I've seen how Yuuri looks at you, and there is love in his eyes, Viktor. If he is nothing more to you than a temporary amusement, or a fit of rebellion against your station, end it now, because I will _not_ have you risk his happiness and livelihood in this house just to satisfy yourself.”

“What?” his eyes widened in shock at the implications behind Yuri's words. “ _No!_ Young Master, it is _not_ like that!”

“Because you always struck me as a very by-the-book sort of soldier, and if you are treating Yuuri any less than he deserves—”

“Sir, it is _not_ like that,” Viktor insisted, so vehemently and incensed as he was, he did not seem to even notice that he had interrupted Yuri in order to speak. “I care for Yuuri, deeply. But our different social standings complicate things. It would be unseemly for me to fraternize with the household staff of my commanding officer. More than that, I know it would be within General Plisetsky's rights to dismiss Yuuri if he found out. I don't want to hurt Yuuri, and so we chose to keep it quiet.”

“Beyond that, you face a dishonourable discharge for this relationship,” Yuri pointed out, and Viktor waved his hand dismissively.

“I don't care about that, sir,” Viktor said, and Yuri raised his eyebrows disbelievingly, making the soldier frown. “Truly, I don't. All I care about is Yuuri.”

“You love him,” Yuri said, and Viktor smiled unabashedly.

“I do, sir,” Viktor said, his mouth opened as though he intended to say more, but at the same moment Yuuri returned to them, looking significantly less teary-eyed, but still a little exhausted from his earlier outburst.

“Well?” Yuuri asked timidly, “is it safe to show my face?”

“You look fine,” Yuri said, and offered the servant a small smile. “I must go and rejoin my dedushka and fiancé...and perhaps in future it may be best to leave your rendezvous for _after_ dessert being served.”

Yuri smirked when his servant flushed a deep scarlet, but did not stay to remark on it as he turned and headed back into the dining room.

 

“Yuratchka, there you are!” Nikolai boomed as Yuri stepped back into the dining room. “I was almost ready to send out a search party for you and our wayward servant.”

“Apologies, Dedushka,” Yuri said as he sat back down and offered Otabek a small smile in greeting. “Our servant...he ran into a cat on his way back to the house from the latrine, and you know how they make him sneeze. He wished to clean himself up prior to returning to the kitchen.”

The invention seemed to placate Nikolai, who nodded, but still looked distinctly put-out for having to wait, though luckily Yuuri hurried into the dining room a moment later with the parfaits on a platter, and served them before he offered Nikolai a deep bow as he said, “apologies, Master, for the delay. I accept full responsibility for my deafness to your summons.”

“Yes, well, see that it doesn't happen again,” Nikolai said, his tone a little sour as he glanced to Yuri, who glared at him, all but daring his grandfather to reprimand his favourite servant.

“It will not, Master, I will ensure it,” Yuuri said as he bowed again, and Nikolai waved him off, apparently no longer interested in Yuuri's tardiness when there was strawberries and cream within striking distance.

The servant hurried away, and Nikolai wasted no time dipping his spoon into the dessert, and after a few moments of silence, in which everyone started in on the parfaits, Nikolai said, “in your absence, Yuri, Otabek and I discussed your impending nuptials, and we have decided to hold the ceremony a week from today.”

Yuri dropped his spoon with a loud clatter, painting the white tablecloth with cream and strawberry preserves. His gaze whirled to his grandfather, his eyes wide, while at the same time he tried to ignore the hurt look that had settled in the eyes of his fiancé.

“So soon?” Yuri asked, “why? I was under the impression that we would have more time.”

“More time for what, Yuratchka?”

“To get to know one another!” Yuri shot back. “Otabek and I are still only barely acquainted, Dedushka, how can we wed so soon?”

“The first time I _met_ your Babushka was the day I married her, Yuri,” his grandfather said sternly. “We had a happy marriage, and many children. You and Otabek have had a longer engagement than most, and his father has been pushing for the wedding to take place for the last week—we waited only on Otabek's request for this silly _day out_. We're not waiting any longer; you will be married as soon as possible.”

Yuri opened and closed his mouth several times, infuriated, but at a loss for what to say. His grandfather had seemed so pleased about their outing earlier—why did he now think it was _silly_?

Yuri glanced to Otabek, and found the alpha to be staring down at his half-finished dessert, his expression blank, but occasionally a muscle in his jaw would tense, as though he was trying to keep from protesting, or perhaps he was hurt that Yuri was still so averse to the idea of them as a wedded couple.

The former, at least, was somewhat reassuring—if it was indeed the case, he wasn't alone in this forced marriage. He had Otabek.

Yuri reached under the table for the alpha, and touched the back of his hand lightly, and uncertainly. Otabek turned his hand over, and they laced their fingers together.

 

~*~

 

At the end of the evening, Otabek announced that he'd best get back to the room at the inn where he was staying, and Yuri frowned at him.

“Why can't you stay here?” Yuri asked, and his grandfather frowned at him disapprovingly.

“An unwed alpha staying in the same home as an unwed omega is not proper, Yuri,” Nikolai said. “We spent the night at Otabek's residence out of necessity, but in a township it would not be viewed as appropriate. Otabek may return in the morning to share our breakfast if you wish to see him.”

Yuri pursed his lips as he forced a nod, but did not mention the underlying connotations of his grandfather's statement—that he would be supervised at all times concerning his premarital associations with the alpha.

“I will come back, if you want me to, Yuri,” Otabek said with a small, almost uncertain smile, and Yuri returned it without hesitation.

“Please,” Yuri said, “I would like to see you again before you go back home.”

In response, Otabek reached for his hand, and pressed a small, polite kiss to the back of it.

“With pleasure, Yuratchka.”

 

Yuri very much wanted to kiss Otabek goodbye, but with his grandfather hovering so near to him he was only able to smile and watch Otabek trot away on his horse, heading for the inn on the opposite side of town.

The omega stood and watched Otabek disappear into the dark streets of Samarkand. The soft gallop of his horse was slower to fade, and his grandfather stepped back into the house fairly quickly, leaving Yuri outside with just his thoughts for company.

Yuri heaved a small sigh, and shifted his gaze from the cobblestone roads, and to the sky as he tried to work out what exactly he was feeling. Already he was longing to see Otabek again, to talk with him, and perhaps sneak in a kiss or two, privacy permitting.

_But if I miss him so much, why do I not want to marry him?_ Yuri wondered, catching his lower lip between his teeth as he leant against the frame of the door, and hugged his coat around himself more snugly.

“Master Yuri?”

Yuri looked up, and saw Yuuri peering out of the door, his own coat pulled on, and he stepped out to join his fellow omega, and glanced down shyly as he said, “I hope I'm not disturbing you, but you looked so...forlorn? It seemed as though you needed some company.”

“Thank you,” Yuri replied, smiling a little at his servant. “I suppose I do—all this marriage business is _so...complicated._ I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore.”

Yuuri fidgeted in place, a faintly sour, almost jealous look crossing his expression, but it was gone so quickly that Yuri did not think it would be wise to remark on it. However, Yuuri spoke before he had a chance to.

“You feel affection for Otabek, but you do not want to marry him,” Yuuri filled in, and Yuri nodded.

“Exactly,” Yuri said. “And I have no idea _why_. Aren't people in my situation supposed to _want_ marriage?”

“You only just met him, and your grandfather is rushing your relationship along much faster than you would like,” Yuuri said, “I think I would be the same way, were I in your position.”

“Even if you were set to marry...Viktor?” Yuri asked, and he chuckled when Yuuri's entire face flushed a deep scarlet.

“Don't _say_ such things, Master Yuri!” Yuuri said, “I—I...oh, _if only_.”

Yuuri spoke the words almost like a prayer, his hands clasping together as he turned his gaze skyward, and even in the low light, Yuri could see that his servant— _no,_ Yuri realised, _his friend—_ was close to tears.

“Maybe one day you might,” Yuri offered, his tone softening a little, and the other omega smiled at him sadly.

“I don't dare to hope for something so wonderful happening, Master,” Yuuri said. “Viktor is...in our quiet moments together, he is nothing like the Viktor you see. He is kind, and gentle, and I know that he loves me. He fears more for me losing my position here than for him losing his rank in the Russian Army. He is so wonderful.”

Yuri wasn't certain how much he believed this; he'd heard Viktor talk down to omegas like they were small children, and not adults who knew their own minds. But after today, he didn't have the heart to remind Yuuri of this, and merely offered his companion a small smile, before something else occurred to him.

“Yuri,” Yuri said, and Yuuri blinked at him.

“Yes, sir?” Yuuri said, and Yuri laughed a little.

“No, I mean, in private you may just call me Yuri. I think we are more than just employer and employee now...don't you?”

“Like friends?” Yuuri asked uncertainly, and Yuri nodded.

“Yes, exactly,” Yuri replied, smiling a little. “But my dedushka would not approve of such familiarity, so...just in private, you may call me by my name, without a title.”

“All right...Yuri.”

Both of the omegas giggled, and slowly the tension in the air began to ebb.

 

~*~

 

Yuri went to bed that night feigning normalcy as nest he could. He sat by the fire in his room and read, listening to the distant puttering of his grandfather, until at last a heavy, sleepy silence fell over the house, signalling to Yuri that his grandfather had at last fallen asleep.

Smiling to himself, Yuri snapped his book shut and set it aside, then tiptoed from his room, and to the front door.

_So far, so good..._ Yuri thought as he pulled on his coat and boots, and was almost out the door when suddenly a voice sounded from directly behind him.

“And where do you think you're going?”

Yuri clapped a hand to his mouth just in time to stifle his squeak of surprise, and whirled around to glare at Viktor, who was gazing at him with an eyebrow arched accusingly.

“Just a nighttime stroll,” Yuri retorted, glaring at the soldier, who let out a small huff of disbelief. “What, is that a crime now?”

“It is when your destination is clear across town at the inn,” Viktor retorted, and arched a brow, making Yuri flush. Was he really _that_ transparent?

“You don't know that I'm going to see Otabek,” Yuri countered, the words flying from his mouth before he could fully think them through, and cursed. He hadn't meant to say that.

“Oh no?” Viktor asked, once more arching a brow at Yuri. “So you regularly take nighttime strolls at one o'clock in the morning that _don't_ involve inappropriate rendezvous with your fiancé?”

“Maybe I do,” Yuri shot back, “you don't know _everything_ about me.”

“On the contrary, sir, it is my _job_ to know everything about this house and its occupants, as it is in my charge to protect when Nikolai is away or otherwise occupied. Now, I think it would be best if you go back to bed—”

“Or what,” Yuri interrupted, “you'll _make me_? Viktor, if you don't let me go, I'll...I'll...I'll tell Dedushka about your affair with my servant!”

Unfortunately, Viktor did not buy the threat, and instead of backing down, the solider began to laugh warmly.

“No you won't,” he said, smiling as he continued to chuckle at the scowling omega. “You adore Yuuri, and would never endanger his livelihood in such a way. Come on, bed, and tomorrow you can go see your precious alpha.”

Grumbling, Yuri shed his coat and boots, dumping them in a pile at the door before he stalked back to bed, with Viktor following to make sure he actually went.

 

Yuri just barely managed to not slam his bedroom door when he returned to the space. He knew that it would be unwise to inadvertently wake his grandfather in such a way.

At the same moment, he turned, and smiled when he saw a tall, dark, and distinctly familiar silhouette standing in the corner of his room.

 


	8. Worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And we're back! Thank you guys so much for your patience over the holidays, and I hope this chapter will live up to the wait :P next update is scheduled for January 20th. Enjoy!

Chapter Seven – Worries

 

The shadow in the corner of Yuri's room swept forward, and a hand clapped over Yuri's mouth as Otabek whispered, “do not scream, Yuri, it's only me.”

“Yes, I know it's you,” Yuri replied as he pushed away his hand, and offered him a mock glare before he threw his arms over Otabek's shoulders, and the alpha chortled warmly as he drew Yuri into the embrace. “Oh, I was just trying to sneak out to see you, but that stupid _Viktor_ caught me, and—hang on, how did _you_ get in?”

“Your servant, Yuuri, before I left, he informed me that there was this servants' entrance to the house, and Viktor would be guarding the front of the house, but not that door...”

“So my servant manipulated everyone in this house just to help you sneak back in?”

“In short, yes,” Otabek replied, smirking a little as though he was proud that his plan had worked out so well, and Yuri laughed, only belatedly remembering that he needed to be quiet in order to keep his grandfather from waking up, and quickly adjusted the volume of his voice.

“I'm suddenly _doubly_ glad that I didn't report Yuuri to my dedushka for catching him fraternizing with Viktor,” Yuri mused, and Otabek chuckled softly.

“Ah, I was wondering about that,” Otabek said with a soft smile. “Any time Private Nikiforov walked into a room, your servant couldn't keep his eyes away.”

“Yes, he's never been one for subtlety, despite his meek nature,” Yuri agreed, making the alpha chortle again.

“Yuri...” Otabek breathed, one hand moving up from Yuri's waist to toy with his hair, and Yuri sighed blissfully at the sensation. “May I...kiss you?”

“I would be very cross if you didn't,” Yuri replied, and smiled as Otabek chuckled softly, and leant in closer.

When Otabek kissed Yuri, time seemed to stop.

His lips were warm, though his skin was still slightly chilled from the night air. He tasted faintly of strawberries and mead, as though he'd helped himself to a nightcap at the inn before returning to Yuri. His arms were firm around Yuri's waist, but not restrictive, and despite the complicated arrangement they found themselves in of their impending nuptials, Yuri still loved how he felt when Otabek kissed him.

“I know that you do not want me, Yuri,” Otabek murmured softly as they parted, and Yuri gazed up, his eyes widening at the statement, but Otabek continued before Yuri could speak. “I know that you do not want... _this_. But I hope that I can earn your love, and if you are unable to love me, that is all right. I will still be good to you, no matter what. I promise.”

“Oh, Otabek, no,” Yuri said in a rush as he reached up to touch the soldier's cheek. “I _do_ feel affection for you, and I enjoy our time together. I feel that I could love you, and when I think of being with you...it makes me _so_ happy.”

“But...?” Otabek prompted when Yuri's pause became too long, and he smiled at the alpha sadly.

“But...I feel that everything is moving so...so... _fast_.” Yuri paused, and gazed up at Otabek apologetically before he continued. “I know that it is natural for marriages like ours to be enacted quickly, but I just want time to know you before we wed. Is that so wrong?”

Otabek appeared slightly hurt by Yuri's words, though he continued to regard the omega with a soft, tender smile. Yuri felt his heart twist with guilt, though it sped up in almost the same instant as Otabek's hand dropped from his cheek to the side of his throat, making Yuri dizzy as the alpha's palm pressed to his bonding gland, almost in silent promise.

“It is not wrong, Yuri,” Otabek murmured. “ _Zha'nym_ , you have more reason than most feel unease at this arrangement. I look forward to it because I find you beautiful in so many ways, not just in shape. I understand that you need time, and I will wait, if that is what you need.”

“Thank you...Beka,” Yuri replied, testing the pet name on his tongue in response to Otabek's term of endearment for him, and Otabek smiled warmly, as though he recognized that Yuri's use of a nickname was an attempt to show that he _did_ care for Otabek, he just didn't feel wholly ready for marriage.

At least, not yet.

Yuri understood what would be expected of him when they wed. Waiting did not mean that they would abstain from the private mating and consummation of their marriage—they couldn't. Questions would be raised if no mating mark appeared on Yuri's throat, and suspicion would bleed into their families, like a strain of typhoid fever in the water.

They had their duties; Yuri understood that. If he was not with child within a few months, they could be accused of harbouring a farce marriage, and the treaty that Nikolai had signed with Otabek's father would be nullified.

 

Otabek pulled Yuri close, and held him. The action drew Yuri from his dark thoughts, and he pressed his cheek against Otabek's collarbone, and held fast to him, afraid to let go.

“I wish this wasn't so confusing,” Yuri said softly, rubbing his cheek against Otabek's chest while he tried to move closer to his fiancé, despite the fact that it was virtually impossible. “I wish we could just _be together_ without all these expectations...”

“Would you be cross if I said that I am looking forward to it?” Otabek asked, and Yuri chuckled warmly.

“No, Otabek,” he said as he tilted his head upwards to gaze more fully at the alpha. “That would not upset me in the least.”

They kissed, the exchange warm and sweet. It was comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold day. Yuri felt as though he could easily learn to love Otabek, but concurrently, he hated the niggling feeling at the back of his mind that told him he _had_ to fall for Otabek in order to live some sort of life of happiness. He wanted to love Otabek simply for the pleasure of loving him; not because he had to.

 

The couple moved to the chaise lounge near the fireplace in Yuri's room. The bed, warmed with heated pans was a more inviting space, but Yuri feared the temptation of using that particular piece of furniture. If they were caught, Yuri's grandfather would be furious. The chaise was the safer option, one which Otabek seemed almost relieved by, as though he, too, was worrying over the implications of laying in bed with Yuri, even if it was just in sleep, and not an intimate act.

“I wish you could stay,” Yuri murmured after a moment, his hand finding Otabek's, and their fingers intertwined tenderly, as though on instinct, rather than rational thought. “I don't want you to go.”

“I will stay as long as you want me here, Yuri,” Otabek replied, his voice soft and gentle while he pressed a light kiss to Yuri's temple. “I will be with you as long as you want me.”

“I want to say, _forever_ ,” Yuri said as he shifted closer. “It's confusing though...with how I feel about our upcoming marriage.”

“Try not to think about it,” Otabek replied, and kissed his temple again, while one hand moved to his back, and rubbed it gently. “Let us enjoy the moment, and save tomorrow's worries for tomorrow. There is nothing we can do to stop it, and worrying about it will do no good.”

“I'll try, on the condition that you call me Yura when we are alone together,” Yuri replied, smiling coyly as Otabek huffed a soft laugh.

“Why Yura?”

“Yuri is my proper name, Dedushka calls me Yuratchka, and if you call me Yura...it seems more...” Yuri paused, and bit his lip to stifle a smile. “Intimate, almost.”

“And then you may continue with that nickname you used before... _Beka_ ,” Otabek said, and Yuri smiled when he saw the soldier's cheeks tinge a faint pink in the firelight. “But only in private, yes?”

“Yes,” Yuri agreed, smiling a little.

 

They sat by the fire long into the night. Sometimes they kissed, sometimes they merely held each other. When Yuri woke the following morning he was in bed, though he could not recall moving from the chaise lounge, and Otabek was gone.

However, Otabek's distinctive alpha scent still lingered all around the room, telling Yuri that he had not dreamt the encounter.

Yuri lay in bed a while longer, smiling to himself as he thought on his time with Otabek the previous night. Despite how many times he had thought on it, it was still almost painfully confusing to him. How was it that he could care for Otabek so deeply, and enjoy their time together so much, and yet still balk at the concept of marriage to the man?

_I'm just not ready,_ Yuri told himself as he slipped from bed, and to where his clothing had been laid out, including one of his scents—a cedar oil he rarely used, due to how pungent it usually was.

_Oh, I must smell of nothing but alpha_ , Yuri realised with a small jolt, and laughed at himself as he realised that his servant was truly a marvel—what other servant would attempt to _hide_ his master's illicit premarital goings-on, instead of reporting it to his superior?

And knowing his grandfather, he would have a _fit_ if he found out that an alpha had been in Yuri's room at night—regardless if it was his fiancé or not.

Smiling to himself, Yuri rubbed a little of the oil into his skin at his wrists, elbows, and neck, then went about getting dressed.

 

~*~

 

“Otabek!” Yuri cried as he stepped into the dining room, and spotted his grandfather and fiancé sitting across from each other at the table. “You're here!”

“As promised,” Otabek replied, smiling as he stood and stepped over to Yuri, his eyes glimmering with mirth as he took Yuri's hand in his, and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles in a perfect display of polite affection. “As you recall, I said that I would come.”

Yuri smiled, nodding a little while he curbed the impulse to jump into the alpha's arms. In particular with his grandfather watching, it would be ill-advised to do something so _improper_.

More than anything else, Yuri did not wish to give his grandfather any excuse to cut off his contact with his fiancé until the wedding, which was a likely outcome if he felt that Yuri and Otabek were acting in an unseemly manner.

When Otabek took Yuri's hand, guiding him towards the table, Yuri saw that his grandfather was regarding him—thankfully—with an approving smile. It was a relief to see, despite the fact that Yuri had known his grandfather had encouraged their union from the start, part of Yuri's mind (perhaps foolishly) worried that his grandfather might suddenly change his mind and tear them apart.

So far, it hadn't happened.

The trio ate in relative silence, though Yuri attempted to break it up by asking when Otabek would be leaving, and he offered Yuri a sad sort of smile.

“Soon,” Otabek replied, sneaking one hand under the table to thread his fingers with Yuri's. “But I will come back before the wedding, I promise.”

“Do not forget your duties, Private Altin,” Nikolai said sternly. “I understand your garrison guards the perimeter of the less... _cultured_ land. Am I correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Otabek replied, his voice stiff, as though he longed to lash out at Nikolai for his remark. “The people in those territories trust us. They do not wish hostility on their brothers without reason.”

Yuri hated the tightness in his chest as he listened to the alphas talk while he returned to his meal, though he was unwilling to let go of Otabek's hand as he did so. Otabek was still a soldier, something Yuri had foolishly forgotten, and this country was far from stable. What if he was called to fight when Yuri was not there? What if something horrible happened to Otabek, and he never got to say goodbye?

Yuri's fingers tightened over Otabek's, hating the intrusive thought, and the way it made him want to weep.

 

~*~

 

Following their breakfast, Otabek made a show of respectfully taking Yuri's hand and kissing the back of it once again before he asked, “Yuri, would you walk with me?” He paused, and seemed to spot Nikolai's warning look, for he added, “just around the house, I wish to speak to you in privacy, but I have no ill-intent.”

Yuri glanced towards his grandfather, who nodded at him slightly in approval.

“All right,” Yuri said at last, and Otabek smiled warmly.

 

They bundled up before they headed outside, and as promised Otabek led him around the perimeter of the house.

Yuri's arm was looped through Otabek's, and he leant against the alpha's side happily, for once not caring if he appeared weak or feeble by doing so. Being near Otabek felt nice, and he found that he cared little for how he might appear to outsiders. He knew he wasn't weak; he was a strong omega. He had come to this country—been _dragged here_ , if he was being honest with himself—and he'd endured an overshadowing of civil war ever since he and his grandfather had arrived.

He cared for Otabek, despite how tense and awkward their relationship had begun, and now being parted from him was not something Yuri looked upon as good tidings.

“Was there a particular reason you wanted to take a walk, Beka?” Yuri asked at last as they turned towards the back of the house. “Or did you wish to walk in silence?”

Otabek chuckled, his gaze straying to the house for a moment before he paused in mid-step to press a light kiss to Yuri's cheek, making the skin tingle pleasantly.

“I wish to be alone with you, if for a moment,” Otabek replied, his smile warm. “I will miss my beautiful dancer when I leave.”

“And I will miss my soldier,” Yuri replied, laughing a little when Otabek flushed a faint pink. “Did I embarrass you?”

Otabek muttered something in Kazakh that Yuri did not understand, but before he could ask, Otabek began to speak again.

“No, Yura, you did not embarrass me,” Otabek said, though despite the reassurance, Yuri was still concerned. “I am soldier, like you said. I worry about...things.”

“What sort of things?”

“In my culture after we are wed...if I were to fall in battle, you would be obligated to marry someone else in my family. Because my mother is gone, that means my father would likely be the person chosen for you.” Otabek winced, but before Yuri could speak, Otabek continued. “I would not wish that for you, but I worry that my father might insist. I do not wish for you to be alone, and my father is good man, but I do not think you would want that.”

Yuri's stomach churned uneasily at the concept of that, and did his best to swallow his fear.

“Your...culture?”

“Yes,” Otabek affirmed, nodding his head a little. “I am of the Islamic faith, but despite this, my father felt that it was more important that we wed for this treaty, instead of waiting for a good Muslim omega to come along.” He paused, and smiled sadly at Yuri. “Now, I am glad that my father did not wait, but I still worry of something happening to me and my father asking that of you.”

Yuri leant in and kissed Otabek gently. It mattered little to him that Otabek was not Christian, and felt no anger at anyone for failing to tell him. Otabek was still a good man, and _that_ was what mattered to Yuri. He waited for half a moment before he asked, “Beka, do you think you are a good soldier? A strong fighter?”

“I think so,” Otabek replied, his voice soft as he lifted one of his gloved hands to touch Yuri's cheek. “I have rarely lost a battle.”

“Then why would you fear me being forced to wed your father?” Yuri laughed, as though the mere idea was ludicrous. “You are _strong,_ Beka, and I know that you will always come back to me.”

“But you make me strong, Yura,” Otabek said, his voice soft and almost reverent. “You make me _want_ to come back.”

“Good,” Yuri replied, his tone teasing. “We are in agreement that you would never do something so silly as to fall in battle—you are much too strong for that.”

Otabek laughed, the sound warm and full. He pulled Yuri closer, and kissed him.

Yuri threw his arms over Otabek's shoulders, uncaring if anyone saw them, and as they stood there in the snow, one single, solitary thought drifted to the forefront of Yuri's mind for the dozenth time in as many days—

_I could easily fall in love with you, Otabek Altin._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What Otabek is referring to towards the end of the chapter is called a Levirate marriage, a type of marriage where the widow of the deceased is obliged to marry their deceased spouse's sibling, though in this case I made Otabek an only child, so in my head it made sense for his father to be the next candidate, so to speak. According to my research, a levirate marriage is against Islamic Law, but I know I've read of it happening in Muslim culture at times. (Although it's very possible that I am remembering wrong. If anyone feels that my interpretation is way off, feel free to let me know—the last thing I want to do is portray any faith inaccurately, especially on this particular topic.)


	9. Tradition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than I would like, but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless :) Next update will be February 3rd.

Chapter Eight – Tradition

 

Yuri's grandfather had insisted that Yuri and Otabek wed _within the week._

However, a week passed them by—without a wedding.

And then another.

And _another_.

The deep, dry cold of February bowed its head to March, and then to rainy April, which washed away much of the snow. Unfortunately, it had left the ground quite soggy, and not conductive to leisurely strolls. This was rather a shame, as walks together had quickly become Yuri and Otabek's primary way to be alone together, without his grandfather hovering over them.

 

“Quite the _week_ ,” Otabek said when he met Yuri at the door for their daily walk one Tuesday afternoon, an umbrella held aloft, which he offered to Yuri, who smiled warmly at the gentlemanly offer. “It feels much longer, don't you think?”

“Almost like three months,” Yuri agreed, making his alpha laugh.

It had been their ongoing joke as Yuri's grandfather and Otabek's father argued over the details of their wedding, but given that they came from different faiths, it had led to a number of highly memorable shouting matches between the two elder alphas.

“I have to admit, such an extended engagement has given me time to do two things,” Otabek admitted as they meandered to the street where the daily market was held. The poor weather had scared off most of the customers, and Yuri counted only two other people braving the rain to buy their supplies from the available vendors.

“And what two things are those?” Yuri asked idly as he bowed forward to inspect a finely woven shawl, his face flushing a little when Otabek regarded him with a warm adoration.

“It has given me time to get to know you better, and my Russian is also better.”

“Yes, it is much better,” Yuri agreed as he straightened up, and they resumed their walk. “But I think you must teach me more Kazakh, I still have a lot to learn.”

“I think your favourite phrase right now is still, _aq_ _ı_ _r_ _ındap söyleñizşi,_ ” Otabek teased, and Yuri offered him a mock glare as they stopped at the tea stand.

Yuri took to the task of ordering them each a hot drink, replying with a carefully enunciated, _“raxmet_ ,” then glanced to Otabek, eyebrow arched in triumph, as though to prove to the alpha that he could, in fact, speak the language.

“Good, Yuri, now add it to a sentence,” Otabek retorted, and chuckled when the statement was met with another glare. However, Otabek's gentle mirth made it hard to maintain the expression, and it soon softened into a smile.

At first, Yuri did not say anything, but flushed once more as they meandered through the market, sipping their tea and chatting idly. Otabek bought him a beautifully handcrafted silver chatelaine designed for male omegas from one of the craftsmen, which Yuri happily affixed to the waist of his trousers.

“Beka,” Yuri murmured, his lips still pulled into a small smile as they walked, and he chanced taking the alpha's hand, if only for a moment. “You don't need to purchase a gift for me every time we go to the market, you know. I am happy just being with you.”

“Do you not like the gifts?” Otabek asked, worry crossing his expression, and Yuri smiled, offering the alpha's hand a light squeeze, but the look of concern did not fade from his eyes.

“I did not say that—they're lovely, they really are, and you have such beautiful taste, but I just mean that being _with you_ is a gift, and I will enjoy it regardless whether you feel the need to purchase something for me or not.”

“And what if I say that I enjoy giving you gifts, Yura?” Otabek asked, his voice dropping in volume a little as they headed away from the market, and to a more secluded area of the street.

“Then, by all means, continue,” Yuri replied, smiling a little. “As long as you know that you do not need to do it, if you do not wish to.”

Yuri got on his toes to offer Otabek a hasty peck, and pulled back just as Viktor rounded the corner, clearly looking for Yuuri, who had been quietly chaperoning the couple ever since they had left.

Viktor frowned as his eyes fell to Yuri and Otabek's clasped hands. Such a reaction was a bit rich, in Yuri's opinion, given that he'd now caught Yuuri and Viktor being wildly inappropriate with one another on several occasions, and sometimes even without _clothing_.

Reluctantly, Yuri let go of Otabek's hand, and immediately Viktor's look of disapproval faded from his features.

“General Plisetsky and Lieutenant Altin require your presence,” Viktor said stiffly, as though he'd been witness to some sort of horribly improper act.

_Or maybe some part of his mind realises how ridiculously hypocritical he's being..._ Yuri mused as they both nodded and began to follow Viktor back to the house, sneakily threading their fingers back together, uncaring if anyone saw. As far as Yuri was concerned, they should have been wed months ago, so really, it shouldn't be viewed as so improper.

 

~*~

 

Despite Yuri's feelings towards the impropriety—or lack thereof—of their hand-holding, he had the good sense to pull his hand back once they'd reached the house. He still felt as though his chaperones and guardians were hovering over him a little too much, but by the same token, he did not wish to deal with another ridiculous lecture from his grandfather for his forward behaviour.

Viktor led them all inside, and they paused at the door to rid themselves of their coats and umbrella before they stepped farther inside. They followed Viktor to the dining room, where a spread of _Zakuski_ had been laid out, as well as two pots of tea. Yuri's grandfather was seated at the head of the table, and to his left was a man whom Yuri had gotten to know quite well of late—Otabek's father, Sadiq.

Sadiq Altin was a firm man, hardened by war, and _deeply_ stubborn. He had skin like leather, and bore black hair flecked with grey. When in the presence of Nikolai and Yuri, he always wore his uniform, and never dressed down. His epaulettes told Yuri of how decorated he was, beyond simply his standing as a lieutenant, and the only mark of personality was a thin gold chain that he wore around his neck, it hanging in such a way that it gave the impression that there was a pendant hanging from it.

Though Yuri had never seen the pendant with his own eyes, Otabek had privately told him that it was a gold locket, round, and contained images of Otabek's late mother, a male omega called Kemal.

Yuri rather liked Sadiq, though he'd had the good sense to never say this aloud, given how Nikolai had quickly come to detest him. Despite Sadiq's curt nature, it was clear that he loved Otabek, and wanted Otabek's wedding day to not just be a business transaction—he wanted it to be memorable.

Once they had sat down, Yuri reached a hand under the table for Otabek, and just barely stopped a laugh that bubbled up in his throat. Otabek had been doing the exact the same thing as him, and their fingers bumped together under the table before they threaded together.

“We have finally come to a decision concerning your marriage, and you will be wed next week,” Sadiq said, his tone stiff and defeated, telling Yuri that the man had finally caved to Nikolai's arguments, and had agreed to a Russian Orthodox ceremony, which Sadiq verified as he added, “you will be wed in the...Russian Way.”

Yuri glanced to Otabek, his eyes filled with concern, but Otabek did not look overly upset by this news. In fact, he looked marginally relieved.

“That is fine, Äke,” he said, “I wish only to be wed to my omega as soon as is possible, the means do not matter to me.”

Sadiq frowned disapprovingly at Otabek's statement. He said something in Kazakh to his son, which made Otabek frown, and he responded in kind.

Nikolai appeared vaguely scandalised by whatever they were saying, but it was beyond Yuri's knowledge of the language to follow it. They went back and forth for several long, tense minutes. Their voices never raised, and both were unnervingly calm, but Yuri had a feeling that their topic of conversation was a little more involved than a benign discussion of some kind.

The conversation ended when Sadiq let out a frustrated huff, got up, and stalked from the room. Otabek bowed his head guiltily, but his expression was set and stony, as though whatever had been said, Otabek was trying to not let it get to him.

 

~*~

 

“What did you and your father speak about?”

Yuri voiced the question the moment that they were alone together—that is, mostly alone, with Yuuri acting the part of their chaperone as usual—and Otabek grimaced, as though he really didn't wish to speak on it, but did so anyway, simply because Yuri had asked.

“He was upset with me that I did not argue with your grandfather over the insistence of a purely Russian wedding for us. He knows that I am not as devout as him—I only pray once or twice a day, instead of five, and I do imbibe alcohol from time to time. He knows all this, but still expects me to force you to become Muslim, since he cannot worm his way out of this arrangement. I do not want that. I want you to be yourself, I do not want you to be something that you are not, just because my father wishes it.”

“Is there anything of Islam you wish you could work into your wedding?” Yuri asked curiously, and immediately Otabek cast him a dubious look. Yuri smiled at him warmly. “No, I mean it. If it were entirely up to us, what would you wish to see?”

“I...” Otabek trailed off, reaching for Yuri's hand compulsively, and Yuri took it, smiling warmly as they stared up into the late afternoon sky, weaving lazily through the trees upon his grandfather's property as they went.

“I would like to perform _qatari_ for you,” Otabek said, smiling wistfully as he said it. “A traditional swords dance that the groom or alpha perform for his wife or omega. It is beautiful, and I'd always believed that I would perform it for my partner someday.

“In my faith, there is a practice that beta women and omega men partake in a henna ritual. The night before the wedding, You all gather, and your hands are painted with a special ink called henna, with beautiful designs in all sorts of shapes. I'd always assumed that whomever I married would carry designs on their hands on the day we wed.”

“That sounds wonderful, Beka,” Yuri said warmly, “I'm not sure about the henna, I wouldn't know anyone who could help me with it, but swords dances are not so unfamiliar in Russian culture. I think if you allude to it being a _family tradition_ , my grandfather may not protest it.”

“You wouldn't mind?” Otabek asked, his tone halting and nervous, almost as though he'd expected Yuri to reject his traditions out of hand.

“Of course not,” Yuri replied, smiling warmly, “As much as is possible, I want this to be _our day_. I don't care if we show up to the chapel naked, and have dried fish for dinner, I want this to be special. Your faith is not important to my grandfather, but it is important to _me_ , Beka. I know you do not wish me to be miserable with you, but concurrently, I do not wish for you to be miserable with _me_.”

“Do you mean that, Yura?” Otabek asked, his voice slightly softened, almost vulnerable, and Yuri felt his heart ache for his fiancé.

Yuri cast a glance back to the house, and spotted Viktor watching them through one of the windows, but his grandfather was nowhere to be seen. Yuri smirked a little, knowing that Viktor was certainly too far away to do anything about an act of so-called _indecency_.

The omega reached out, and brushed his hand across Otabek's cheek, loving the slight bumps from his razor across his face, the sharp scent of him, not unpleasant, but wonderfully masculine.

Yuri leant in, and kissed his fiancé.

Comparatively, this was not a hasty peck, or a quick kiss in the street like they had done before.

This kiss was slow—languid. Yuri wanted to taste Otabek, and have something to tide him over until their marriage, when they no longer needed to be so foolishly cautious.

“Um, Master Yuri,” Yuuri cut in awkwardly a few minutes later, “I do not mean to interrupt your...erm...your kiss, but Private Viktor is running directly towards us. He seems to be shouting.”

“Oh,” Yuri said as he pulled back a little, panting softly. “I guess that means we should probably stop, then.”

“Yes,” Otabek replied in a similarly soft tone, but with an edge of mischief to it. “Yes, we _probably_ should...”

Grinning, Yuri happily leant in for another kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Though I did research for the “proper” term for the premarital henna ritual, I could only find the Indian and Malay terms for this, which are Mehndi and Berinai respectively, according to my beta. My beta believed that referring to it just as “henna” would be fine, so if anyone knows the proper Kazakh term for it, feel free to hmu :) Additionally, I was given two terms for the swords dance, ardah and qatari. If I used the wrong word for this, please let me know.   
> All research was done through broken-telephone texting, given that I have no internet at home, so I would ask my beta questions, and they would look it up, so mistakes are very possible. 
> 
> _aqırındap söyleñizşi_ – Please speak more slowly


	10. The Last Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for February 17th. Enjoy! :) Apologies in advance for the shortness of this chapter; I promise that the next one will be longer!

Chapter Nine – The Last Night

 

Though Yuri had looked forward to events before; he could recall feeling excitement for his birthday, for Christmas, Easter, that sort of thing.

However, waiting for his wedding day to arrive was somehow infinitely worse.

It was made even more tragic by how limited his time with his Beka was. Now, he needed to be present for fittings of his traditional omega wedding attire, something that seemed to blur the lines between a dress and a traditional suit.

His was in the process of being designed by a seamstress that Nikolai had hired, but despite the more fiddly details of the design, Yuri knew that it would consist of a white suit and ascot tie, with a long, flowing white cape, as well as a veil to cover his face, along with a bouquet of flowers.

Yuri hated it; he hated getting overly dressy for any reason, but he hated it more now because it was cutting in on his time with Otabek.

Unfortunately, the alpha was not being overly helpful in making Yuri feel any better about standing around on an uncomfortable stool while a young woman stuck him with pins.

 

“Ah, Yura, it will be worth it,” Otabek replied warmly after Yuri had complained again about the last few touches to his outfit, and the alpha chanced a quick peck to his lips, earning him a disapproving frown from Viktor, who had long given up trying to stop them. “You will be so beautiful on Our Day, it will all be worth it.”

“How is spending an entire week being stabbed by an incompetent seamstress _worth_ looking pretty for an hour?” Yuri asked dryly, and a dark, almost wicked look crossed Otabek's face, which both thrilled and unnerved Yuri in equal measure.

“The answer to that is simple, my Yura,” Otabek replied as he kissed him again, and stroked his cheek as he added in a soft whisper, “ _on our wedding night, you will look so lovely that it will take me no time at all to get you out of them._ ”

Yuri felt himself go red from his head to his feet. He forced a laugh, but Otabek seemed to recognize that he had gone too far, and pulled back a little, offering Yuri's hand an apologetic squeeze. However, he did not speak on it, as though he feared making it worse.

Yuri was grateful for this; their wedding night was the one thing he was not particularly looking forward to, despite the knowledge that it would be expected, and not something he could avoid. Given that Yuri had heard from multiple sources that the pain of penetration was worse than his heat pains, his fear was not unwarranted, though he hoped that Otabek would do his best to make it as painless as possible.

Yuri gazed off into the sunny sky of mid-April, his hand still entwined with Otabek's. He wanted to be with him, but so too was he fearful of their wedding night. Would Otabek change, and be aggressive during that time? Would Otabek _hurt_ Yuri? Was there a true way to dull the pain?

Yuri shivered, and tried not to think on it.

 

~*~

 

When the night preceding their wedding arrived, Otabek had bid Yuri goodnight with a kiss on the back of his hand, and promised to see him tomorrow.

“It still seems very far away,” Yuri said with a wince, and Otabek smiled at him warmly.

“Do not worry, my Yuri,” Otabek said, lurching forward as though to kiss him, but then remembered that Nikolai was at Yuri's back, and thought better of it. He froze his movements, and offered Yuri another gentlemanly smile. “It will be here before you know it.”

“I'll be thinking of you,” Yuri offered, reaching for his hand again, and Otabek responded with a warm smile, the kind he seemed to reserve only for Yuri, and kissed his hand again.

“And I, you, my Yuri. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Yuri watched him ride away to the inn where Otabek and his father were staying, along with the alpha and beta male members of Otabek's family. The omegas and beta women were inside Yuri and Nikolai's home, clustered in the front room, waiting for Yuri.

However, _clustered_ may have been a little strong, something that Yuri realised as he headed back inside, given that there were only three of them: Täte Faiza, Qarındas Aliya, and Qarındas Kalid.

Faiza was the eldest; a warmly smiling omega woman in her sixties. Her hair was hidden by a deep blue headscarf, decorated with small glass beads that glinted like diamonds in the low light. Aliya, Faiza's beta daughter, was sixteen, and she wore a headscarf similar to her mother, though dyed indigo, and both of them were dressed in long, flowing dresses, and their hands were adorned with sparkling gold jewellery.

Kalid, the only male omega, also wore a headscarf, though his was a smoky pink, and he was dressed in a fine shirt and trousers. He was in his twenties, and bore a circular mark on his throat, showing that he was mated.

Yuri shivered a little as he gazed at the mark; soon, there would be a mark just like it on his own neck.

Yuri had no idea how he felt about that.

“Come, come,” Faiza said warmly, drawing Yuri from his thoughts as she coaxed him farther into the room, smiling warmly as she spoke. “You are almost family, Zha`nym, you need not be nervous of us.”

Yuri smiled, and he felt himself relax when his own invited guest, Yuuri, stepped into the room, wearing the finest clothes he owned—a black suit with a violet shirt underneath. The dyes were expensive, far beyond what a simple servant could afford, and Yuri had a sneaking suspicion that Viktor may have bought the clothes for him.

“Oh, and you must be Yuri's special friend!” Faiza said brightly, making Yuuri flush scarlet. “Come, come, both of you.”

Faiza ushered them farther into the space, and let out an almost girlish giggle when she spotted Nikolai peering in, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Oh, no, no, Mr Plisetsky!” she said, blatantly ignoring his title of _General_ as she spoke, and ushered him out of the room like he was a misbehaving child. “Out you go! This is a special ceremony for beta women and omegas!”

“My lady!” he cried, “I really must protest!”

“Now, now,” she replied, still in a light tone, but carried a firm undercurrent that stated that she was not to be argued with. “This is a special space for _just_ beta women and omegas. Are you an omega or beta woman? No? Then off you go! _We_ will take care of Yuri tonight, don't you worry about a thing!”

Yuri bit back a smile as he watched this little unassuming woman shunt his grandfather out of the front room, before she shut the door firmly behind him.

“Oh, now isn't that better?” Faiza said with a little sigh, making the others laugh.

“ _Much_ better, Ana,” her daughter agreed, nodding her head firmly. “No more stinky alphas in here.”

“Oh, Ali, be polite,” Kalid complained, “we are guests in his home, after all.”

The trio chattered happily as they guided Yuri and Yuuri over to the table, but instead of sitting upon the settee or available chairs, they sat on cushions that had been arranged on the floor around the table, upon which they had placed pots of tea and platters of food, as well as a block of dark brown, almost black _something_ that Yuri could not hope to identify.

“What _is_ that?” Yuuri asked curiously before Yuri could open his mouth, eyeing the block dubiously.

“It is henna, silly,” Aliya replied, a note of excitement in her voice. “Ana will do it, because she is the eldest of us here, and her work is _beautiful_.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” Yuri offered, smiling, and he noted how the three members of Otabek's family seemed to relax at his words, as though he might openly reject this aspect of their culture. “After Otabek told me about it, it sounded so beautiful, and I would love to have such designs decorating my hands on my wedding day.”

“Come sit, then, Yuri,” Faiza said, patting one of the cushions on the ground gently. “I will give you the most beautiful designs you have ever seen.”

Yuri smiled gratefully, and took hold of Yuuri's wrist, guiding him forward, and the pair of them sat in between their three guests, while Faiza began to prepare the henna ink, and Kalid offered Yuuri some food to distract him. This seemed to be a good idea, given how nervous Yuuri seemed to be about sitting with his master in such a relaxed, informal environment.

Yuri watched Faiza work, curious to see how it was done, while next to him Yuuri fidgeted nervously. Yuri laid a land on his leg, in the hopes that this would reassure his friend that he was wanted and welcomed here, though it didn't seem to help all that much, and he returned his attention to the matriarch.

Faiza created a well in the block of henna, and mixed the ink with a little water. It smelled a little odd to Yuri, but he did not protest as he watched her, keen for Otabek's family to like him, rather than revile him.

 

“There, are you ready, Zha'nym?” Faiza asked, and Yuri smiled, nodding as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to the centre of his forearm, and offered her his hand.

Yuri watched, transfixed, as Faiza started on the back of his hand, painting some sort of artistic spiral made out of abstract ivy. It grew outward, stopping around his wrist, before Faiza moved back up, working more details onto his fingers, making them tickle.

Faiza turned his hand over and painted a sun onto Yuri's palm, then added more details to his fingers, turning the appendage into a veritable work of art.

“Now, no touching while it dries, Zha'nym,” Faiza said playfully as she took his other hand and began to work on it, while he turned his opposite limb carefully, admiring the artwork from every angle.

“This is _amazing_ ,” Yuri said, careful to do as Faiza had instructed, unwilling to accidentally smudge her design. “How long will it stay?”

“Oh, a week or two,” she replied, the ghost of a smile in her voice, as though she knew Nikolai would not be at all pleased about that.

“Good,” Yuri replied, smiling as well.

 

~*~

 

Faiza painted everyone's hands, and Kalid took over at the end to do hers, while Yuri poured her a cup of tea in thanks for her work.

“Oh, really, you don't need to fuss over me,” Faiza said with a warm chortle, but Yuri shook his head as he offered her the tea, which she accepted with her dry, decorated hand.

“It is an honour, my lady,” Yuri replied, smiling at her again. “You did all this wonderful artwork, the least I can do is offer you a cup of tea for your trouble.”

“You are very kind,” Faiza said warmly, and sipped the hot beverage lightly. “I can see why my nephew is so taken with you. Beautiful, kind, but _fierce._ I can see fire in your eyes, Zha`nym. You did not accept my nephew without a fight; you don't need to say it, I can _see_ that he had to prove himself to you first—that is good.”

“I care about him very much,” Yuri offered, and she smiled at him knowingly. “I...some parts make me nervous, but I know I want to be tied to him.”

Yuri did not know why he was saying all this to her. He barely knew Faiza, after all, but something about her, beyond her compliments of his character, that is, gave Yuri the feeling that he could trust her.

More than that, she felt like something he'd sorely missed in the last few years—

She felt like a _mother_.

“I suppose you are nervous about your wedding night?” she asked, and Yuri cast a glance to Yuuri and the others, but they were absorbed in a conversation with each other, and did not seem to be listening.

Yuri turned back to Faiza, and nodded meekly.

Faiza laid a hand over his, and squeezed. It felt so warm and comforting, and her omega scent made him feel completely and utterly safe.

“Zha`nym, even though many alphas and much literature dictate that an alpha taking you to bed is painful, it is _not_ true. If they are a good person, they will make it feel good, not bad. They can help take heat pain away, and they give you... _bliss_.”

Yuri flushed a little at her words, but she was still smiling at him, her expression warm, with a hint of amusement in her eyes. His heat was soon, this he knew, staved off, he supposed, by stress over the wedding.

“Bliss?” he asked curiously after a moment, and she chuckled knowingly.

“I have had six children, Zha`nym. Would I partake in it so much if it hurt?”

“Childbirth hurts, I know that,” Yuri replied, and she laughed, though it was a warm sound, and not belittling.

“It does, Zha`nym, but it is _worth_ the pain. Bringing children into the world...it is an experience I would trade for nothing. Not all pain is bad pain.”

“I suppose...it can't be all bad then, can it?” Yuri asked, and Faiza chortled warmly again.

“I like you, Yuri,” she said affectionately. “You are not as closed-off as many of your Russian brothers and sisters. It is good that you can speak on these things so openly.”

“I cannot say I like how things are,” Yuri admitted, his gaze falling on Yuuri, who seemed to be enjoying himself—at last—and Yuri's thoughts strayed to how if Yuuri's relationship ever came out, he'd probably be thrown into the streets. The knowledge of this unfairness made Yuri ache inside. “I was not pleased to find out that my husband was chosen for me, but...I am glad that it was Otabek.”

“He is a good man,” Faiza said, “and he always speaks very highly of you. I think you two will do well together.”

“Yes,” Yuri agreed, smiling again. “I hope so.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Kazakh words: Täte – Aunt, Qarındas – Cousin, Ana – Mother (Sometimes seen as the Cyrillic Aнa, but the н is pronounced as an n.)


	11. Crowned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for March 3rd. Enjoy! :) Sorry for the delay in posting, connectivity issues, and due to lack of time I wasn't able to edit this over twice like I usually do, so if there are any major mistakes, please let me know :)

Chapter Ten – Crowned

 

Yuri woke in the morning with a smile and a fluttering in his chest.

Today was the day.

His _Wedding Day_.

 

Faiza was already up when Yuri made his way to the dining room, and had apparently taken over the kitchen.

An amused Yuuri was helping her—when she allowed it, that is, while Aliya and Kalid were seated at the dining table, sipping tea and acting as though Faiza's actions were not surprising at all.

“Qayırlı tañ,” Yuri offered when no one greeted him, and Aliya offered him a welcoming smile.

“Qayırlı tañ, Yuri,” she replied, “did you sleep well?”

“Fairly,” he replied as he sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. “Where is my Dedushka?”

“With the other alphas,” Kalid replied, “you will see him at the church.”

Yuri nodded his head, sipping his tea for something to do with his hands while he tried to pinpoint what he was feeling—excitement, nervousness, joy—it was hard to pick just one emotion that would perfectly encompass his anticipation for what was to come later that day.

Yuri helped himself to a pastry, and some of the _shuzhuk_ that Faiza had brought out, and he chuckled warmly when the older woman admonished him for eating so much food prior to his wedding.

“You will pop _right_ out of your wedding clothes, Yuri!” she teased, to which Yuri laughed again, and shook his head at the older woman, well aware that she was teasing, and not genuinely berating him for his breakfast choices.

 

~*~

 

The morning passed Yuri by in a blur of wedding preparations, with Kalid and Yuuri helping Yuri to dress in the many layers he was expected to don for the ceremony.

A white shirt, white trousers, white jacket embroidered on the lapels with designs of snowflakes and swirling winds, which was an acknowledgement to his favourite season—winter.

Over the jacket was laid a white satin cape, pinned to his shoulders with silver brooches.

Yuri stepped into a pair of white shoes, before the veil was laid over his head.

It was a simple, thin piece of fabric, unadorned, but still beautifully woven, and Yuri could see through it without issue.

“Are you ready, Yuri?” Yuuri asked, and from behind the veil, Yuri smiled.

“Yes,” he replied, his smile broadening when Yuuri took his arm, and led him from the house.

 

~*~

 

Yuri and the others all piled into one coach, tittering a chatting excitedly as the driver made for the centre of town.

All except Yuri, who was staring out his window intently, watching the little church draw nearer.

Samarkand's church was a simple construction of a white one-storey building with a cross perched on top. Outside Yuri could see several horses and coaches, the footmen tending to the animals, and Yuri could hear organ music filtering out from inside of the building.

Yuri curled his fingers around the stems of his bouquet of chamomile and white lilies. He turned to Yuuri and offered him a smile, only belatedly remembering that Yuuri could not see his face, and asked, “are you ready?”

“Are _you_?” Yuuri asked with an incredulous laugh. “It's your wedding day, after all, not mine.”

“Yeah,” Yuri replied, his voice almost on the side of breathless, “I'm ready.”

 

Yuuri guided Yuri from the coach, with Faiza lifting the hem of his cape to keep it from getting dirty, while Kalid and Aliya on his other side, making sure he didn't stumble, all of them falling silent as they approached the church.

As the building began to loom closer, Yuri felt his heart thrum with excitement. There was no fear or uncertainty in him at thought of what was about to occur; he felt only excitement at the prospect of being tied to Otabek on such a beautiful spring day.

The other omegas set down Yuri's cape and rushed to take their seats, Yuri was reminded, once again, that this was _it._

 

Yuri held his breath as his grandfather stepped up next to him, and took his arm, and farther inside the church, Yuri could hear the bridal procession began to play.

Yuri's omega of honour, Yuuri, began step down the aisle with his own little bouquet in hand, and all eyes turned to him.

“ _you look beautiful,_ Yuratchka,” Nikolai whispered as he offered Yuri's arm a squeeze, and Yuri smiled.

“Thank you, Dedushka,” Yuri replied just as softly, then straightened up, and followed Yuuri's path down the aisle.

 

Otabek stood to the right of the priest, gloved hands folded in front of him, and he was dressed beautifully in his soldier's attire, complete with his shoulder lapels and a sword at his waist, as well as joyous tears in his eyes.

Yuri bit his lip as he stepped forward, but the small action did little to stem the flow of tears, and he felt twin tracks trickle slowly down his cheeks as he continued to smile at Otabek.

Once they'd reached the altar, Yuri passed his bouquet to Yuuri to hold, before Otabek took a small step forward, and Nikolai took one of Yuri's hands, which he placed gently in one of Otabek's.

Otabek guided Yuri back up to the altar, and let go of Yuri's hand momentarily to lift his veil, and smiled warmly, chuckling as he reached out to wipe away Yuri's tears.

Smiling, Yuri did the same, earning him a warm round of chuckles from the assembled congregation.

They turned as the priest began to speak,

“Welcome, one and all, to the Crowning of Otabek Altin, and his omega, Yuri Plisetsky. May they be blessed on today of all days, and may God smile down upon their union most Holy.”

As the priest's pleasantries wound to a close, he led the assembly in a prayer. Then, the ceremony truly began as he commenced the traditional Betrothal Ceremony that preceded the actual wedding.

Yuri took none of the words in as he watched the priest pray, too caught up in watching Otabek, rather than paying proper attention to the ceremony. The priest made a sign of the cross over the two gold bands that lay innocently upon the white pillow, the hand movements drawing Yuri's attention back to the holy man, and Otabek squeezed his hand, as though he felt as anxious as Yuri for the wedding to proceed.

The priest pressed Yuri and Otabek's forehead three times each, and exchanged the rings between their right hands, again, three times. Yuri knew that three was significant, implying that the weakness of one will be compensated by the other. It was important, but even so, it took a great feat of strength for Yuri to not cry for the priest to _hurry up_.

Yuri felt a giddy sort of thrill rush through him as Otabek at last peeled back his right glove, and passed it to his father, who held the item carefully while the priest slid the rings onto the third finger of Yuri and Otabek's right hands.

Yuri beamed, his fingers lacing with Otabek's, and the priest handed them each a lit candle for them to hold in their left hands for the remainder of the ceremony before he resumed his prayers for the couple.

At last, the crowns were presented. Yuri held his breath as he listened to the crowd gasp and titter at the beautifully crafted golden and silver crowns that had been made for Yuri and Otabek, studded with shining rubies and glimmering emeralds. They were joined together by a white ribbon, symbolizing their unity, and Yuri nearly wept when the priest at last said, “please bow your heads.”

“ _O Lord, our God, crown them in glory and honour._ ”

Yuri closed his eyes, feeling the crown sink onto his head, and Otabek's hand tensed in his as once again the priest swapped the crowns three times, before at last Yuri's crown settled on his head more securely, like it was _meant_ to be there.

When Yuri and Otabek straightened up together, their hands still clasped, and their candles still gripped firmly in their opposite hands, the priest resumed his prayers, producing the Common Cup, which Yuri knew he was expected to drink from three times, as was Otabek.

“... _And as you drink, you are reminded that from this moment on, you will share everything. Your joys doubled, and sorrows divided.”_

Yuri sipped the red wine as it was offered to him, unable to wash the smile from his face as he did so, he cast a brief glance to Otabek, who seemed to be feeling something similar. When he caught Yuri's eyes on him, he squeezed the omega's hand again in silent reassurance.

The priest led the congregation in a hymn, something sweet, and about love, though Yuri wasn't really listening to the words as the priest led them in the next act of the ceremony, the Circling of the Table.

Hand in hand, and with careful steps so as to not dislodge their crowns, Yuri and Otabek followed the priest around the table, taking their first steps together as a married couple, while around them, the congregation continued to sing.

They circled the table three times before they slowed to a stop in front of the altar, hands still clasped while the final lines of the hymn were sung. Yuri, once again, found that he could not take his eyes off of Otabek, and Otabek, in turn, could not look away from Yuri.

At last, _at last_ , the final blessings of the ceremony were to be recited, and Yuri bit back a wild grin as the priest turned to Otabek, and began to speak.

“ _Be thou magnified, O Alpha, as Abraham, and blessed as Isaac and multiply as Jacob. Walk in peace and work in righteousness, as the commandments of God.”_

Then, he turned to Yuri.

“ _And thou, O Omega, be thou magnified as Sarah, glad as Rebecca, and multiply like unto Rachel, rejoicing in thine own husband, fulfilling the conditions of the law, for so it is well pleasing unto God._ ”

Yuri smiled, his expression a little tight as he noted the differences in the blessings between his and Otabek's, but he was not foolish enough to protest it here before the eyes of the clergy and congregation.

Instead, Yuri turned to face Otabek. Otabek's father and Yuri's grandfather moved to relieve them of the candles, and as they kissed, the congregation shouted the final blessing—

“ _May you live!_ ”

Yuri kissed Otabek again amidst cheers from the congregation. He let out a small, joyous laugh as he threw his arms around the alpha's neck, while he in turn wrapped his arms around Yuri's waist, drawing him closer.

“I love you, husband,” Otabek murmured, and Yuri moved to kiss him again.

“I love you too, husband,” Yuri replied, laughing merrily as the crowd began to get up and crowd around the couple to congratulate them.

 

~*~

 

Yuri and Otabek were separated momentarily, in order for their crowns to be carefully packed away. They were placed in nondescript silk-lined boxes, and stored in the coach that would carry Yuri's belongings to his new home.

On this particular aspect, Yuri tried to not think too hard or too long on his new life with Otabek in the mountains. Though he was looking forward to it, so too did he feel an uncertainty about what he might do once things settled down in his new home.

Yuri banished his worries as his veil was exchanged for a white kerchief, symbolising that he was married, and Yuri immediately passed the veil to Yuuri with a wink, who flushed deeply at the unspoken sentiment behind such an act.

“Oh, Yuri, I couldn't!” Yuuri protested, still very red as Faiza helped him get out of the cape, and the older woman tutted at Yuuri warmly.

“Why not?” Faiza asked, “it is a celebration, and I know your customs. You dance with your intended while wearing the veil for luck, yes?”

“Yuuri's intended is—” Yuri began, and Yuuri hissed at him to be quiet, and so quickly altered his response. “He is... _higher class_.”

“Ah, I see,” Faiza said, though to Yuri her tone made it sound as though this wasn't really a problem to her. “Wear it anyway, Yuuri. The celebration will go on for many days yet, and after a few cups of mead, I am _certain_ your intended will forget your station and dance with you anyway.”

“Do you think so?” Yuuri asked uncertainly, and Faiza stepped to Yuri's side, his cape draped over her arm as she reached for Yuuri, and touched his cheek fondly.

“I _know_ so, Zha`nym.”

“Just give it a try,” Yuri suggested, stepping forward to link his arm around Yuuri's shoulders in an affectionate embrace. “If it' is only friendly dancing, my grandfather has no reason to penalise you for it.”

“Yes, but with the veil, it _means more_ ,” Yuuri pointed out, and Yuri nodded in understanding. He desperately wished that Yuuri could be more open with Viktor, but neither did he wish to push him and have Yuuri risk losing his position in his grandfather's house as a result.

“Do what feels right, and if you are not comfortable wearing the veil, you can pass it on to someone else. I will not feel offended if you choose to do that.”

Yuuri smiled and nodded, his eyes downcast and fixed upon the veil, his brow knitted together as he tried to make up his mind.

 

~*~

 

The celebration was moved across from the church and to the inn. Otabek was waiting outside for Yuri to finish changing, while Otabek himself was still dressed in his uniform, and appeared incapable of taking his eyes off his right hand, where his wedding ring was situated.

Yuri smiled to himself when he spotted Otabek doing this, and he happily hurried over to his husband, and pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

Otabek grunted in surprise, one hand pressing to Yuri's back and holding him in place, and Yuri exhaled a small, fluttery sigh as he gazed up into his husband's dark eyes with a warm, adoring smile.

“It feels good to do that without fear that we will be penalized for it,” Yuri breathed, inhaling the spicy-sweet scent of his alpha, and Otabek chortled as he moved in to peck Yuri's lips one last time.

“It is still not considered proper to be so affectionate in public, you know,” Otabek reminded him, and Yuri laughed.

“I don't care, it is our wedding day, and I will kiss you as much as I like.”

Otabek laughed warmly, and kissed him again before he murmured, “come on inside, the celebration is starting.”

Yuri followed, still smiling, and even before they made it all the way inside, Yuri could see couples dancing, others picking at the feast that had been laid out, and some were drinking.

Yuri found he was not surprised that the festivities had begun without them. He knew that the town will cease most functions for at least two days as their union was celebrated, and Yuri was looking forward to _many_ days of celebration with Otabek at his side before they were forced to return to their usual, daily lives.

“Come dance with me?” Otabek asked softly, and bowed, kissing Yuri's hand as though they were still courting.

“With pleasure,” Yuri replied, laughing a little, and he let out a small squeak of surprise as Otabek lifted him by the waist, and carried him to the dance floor.

 

~*~

 

Yuri could not recall when he had had more fun. He danced almost endlessly with Otabek, sneaking off when they could to share a quiet moment together, or a quiet bite to eat, before they were dragged back into the middle of the chaos.

They napped intermittently, never quite leaving the main area of the inn, while other celebrators came and went. Their rest was always brief, and yet despite this, Yuri never felt overwhelmingly fatigued by all the goings-on around him. He wanted this endless parade of dance, food, and drink to _never_ end.

 

Better still, in Yuri's opinion anyway, was the realization that Yuuri had not, in fact, passed off the veil to another unwed omega. Instead, he wore it proudly, and managed a 'friendly' dance with Viktor.

Or so Yuri had told his grandfather when he'd spotted them together. Luckily, his grandfather questioned it no further, nor the starry look in the eyes of the pair, or how after the first two hours, they disappeared, not to be seen again until sunset on the second day.

 

By the morning of the third day, most of the merrymakers had wandered home, and the celebration, unfortunately, came to a close.

Yuri's disappointment was twofold, given that now he was expected to disappear into the mountains with Otabek. However, it also meant it was almost time for them to consummate their marriage, which still filled Yuri with equal parts anticipation and dread.

“I'll write, Dedushka,” Yuri promised as they stood outside the coach that was to transport them home. “All the time. I promise.”

“You have a new life now, Yuratchka,” his grandfather replied as he clapped Yuri on the shoulder affectionately. “You take care of yourself, and do not worry about me.”

“I'll still write though,” Yuri insisted, and his grandfather offered him a warm, almost paternal smile.

“I look forward to your missives, then,” he replied. “Be good to yourself, and I will visit when you are with child.”

Yuri fought back the urge to wince, though he was uncertain how well he managed it. Though he knew it would be expected, did his grandfather _have_ to bring it up now?

Yuri bit his lip to stifle his protests, and forced a nod. The footman opened the coach's door, and after he cast one last glance to his grandfather, then to Yuuri standing in the background, he forced himself away, and into the coach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Qayırlı tañ – Kazakh for Good Morning; shuzhuk – a Kazakh type of sausage made out of smoked horse meat.
> 
> 90% of the wedding ceremony was taken from theknot.com, as well as details from wikipedia and other Google sources. I am a witch, and as such have very little personal knowledge of Eastern Orthodox weddings, so I hope that I did it justice! :)


	12. Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At last, this fic earns its Explicit rating. :P Next update is scheduled for March 17th. Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven – Wedding Night

 

When Otabek and Yuri made it to the house around sunset, Yuri could not help the shiver of fear that coursed through him as he gazed upon his new home.

_What happens now?_ Yuri wondered nervously as Otabek's hand fell to Yuri's back, rubbing it as though he could sense Yuri's anxiety. _Is he going to..._

Yuri stopped the thought short, and shook his head once. Even though sex between them was now imminent, he couldn't bring himself to think on it.

“Come on,” Otabek said, his voice soft and gentle as he guided Yuri from the coach, and down to the stone walkway that led to the front door. “You must be hungry. When we get inside, we can have something to eat. I sent word ahead to my servant to have something prepared for us.”

“How many servants do you have?” Yuri asked curiously, and Otabek chuckled warmly.

“Just the one, I am not rich like you. He is an oriental my father acquired some time ago, and Father passed him down to me several months ago. I believe you may have seen him the last time you were here, but you were never introduced formally.”

“I'm not rich, my grandfather is,” Yuri retorted teasingly, “but I suppose it makes sense why I would not recall your servant...that first trip was not exactly pleasant for me.”

Otabek chuckled warmly at his words, and curled his arm more securely around the omega as he led him inside.

 

In the front hall, Yuri found the omega servant waiting for them. By his facial structure, Yuri could reasonably assume that he was of a similar lineage to Yuuri, though his hair was more colourful—gold and red. Most amazingly, it seemed to be natural.

“Welcome, Master Yuri,” the young man said as he bowed low. “It is my honour to serve you.”

“Thank you,” Yuri replied, vaguely alarmed by his formality, given how lax things had gotten between Yuuri and himself of late, but that did not impede him from returning the courtesy, and earning himself an approving smile from Otabek in the process.

“This is Minami,” Otabek offered, and the omega, apparently called Minami, bowed again. “He is an excellent cook, and promised to have supper ready for us when we arrived home.”

“Yes, Master,” Minami replied, smiling a little. “Everything is prepared, and laid out in the dining room.”

“Thank you,” Otabek replied. “Then you may rest for the remainder of the evening. We will serve ourselves.”

“Thank you, Master,” Minami said, bowing once again, and he did not move until Otabek and Yuri had shed their shoes and coats, which he took from them to be put away before they headed towards the dining room, and Minami disappeared back into the kitchens, despite Otabek's leave for him to do as he liked for the remainder of the evening.

“He won't be far,” Otabek said conversationally as he led Yuri to the small dining room, where a beautiful pot of mutton stew awaited them, paired with bread and a bottle of amber liquid. When Yuri got closer to the table, he could smell the cloying aroma of mead intermingling with the food. “If you need anything, just call for him. My pantries are well-stocked, and as I said before, Minami is a wonderful cook.”

“He's very...obedient,” Yuri remarked as the stopped at the table, and Otabek pulled out his chair, making Yuri flush a little, though he accepted the gentlemanly gesture, and sat down.

“My father acquired him and his mother as slaves from a Mongolian merchant who treated them rather poorly,” Otabek explained as he circled the table. “He bought their freedom, and paid them very well. When Minami's mother died, Minami asked to stay with my family. He is loyal, but not blindly faithful. If something happens that worries him, or he disagrees with, he will speak up without hesitating.”

“That is good,” Yuri said, smiling in thanks as Otabek served him a bowl of stew, some bread, and glass of mead before he helped himself. “My grandfather was never as...accommodating, I suppose, with his own servants. Yuuri only lasted as long as he did because he learnt early on how strict my grandfather was, and my preference for him encouraged him to keep Yuuri around in an attempt to keep me happy.”

“It is not like that here, and Minami will likely come to me if you or any visitors give him trouble.”

“Visitors?” Yuri asked as he dipped his spoon into the stew, fishing out a hunk of potato, and he popped it into his mouth. As promised, the food was delicious, perfectly cooked, and the broth was both succulent and sweet.

“I had assumed you would want Yuuri or your grandfather to visit, and my Täte Faiza will likely check in on us in a day or two. She lives a three hours' ride from here. She is our closest neighbour, though the roads out here are often blocked in the winter, and too thick with snow to pass.” Otabek paused to begin eating, and glanced up at Yuri. He frowned, and Yuri immediately hid his shocked expression behind his glass of mead.

“Yuri?” Otabek prompted after a moment, but Yuri did not speak. “Did you think...were you presuming that I would keep you alone here, with no company, save for myself?”

“That was the impression I got, yes,” Yuri admitted grudgingly, speaking only after Otabek did not continue, making it clear that he expected an answer. “It was not so bad after I started to fall in love with you, but it still...it sounded lonely, when you are already so secluded, and my Dedushka gave me the impression that he had no plans to visit until after I am with child.”

“Well then, I am certain your grandfather will be visiting soon enough,” Otabek replied with a warm, teasing chuckle, and sipped his mead.

Though Yuri could sense that Otabek had meant nothing malicious by the remark, Yuri still could not stifle a faint shiver of fear.

Yuri focused his attention on his dinner, and tried not to think on it.

 

~*~

 

After they finished eating, Minami returned to clear away the dishes and provided them with a pot of tea and two cups. He bowed his way out, while Otabek poured them each a steaming cup, and offered the first to Yuri.

He accepted it with mildly shaking hands, still caught in a haze of worry over what was to come, which was not missed by his husband.

“You're nervous,” Otabek stated, and Yuri bowed his head as he nodded a little. “About tonight?”

“Erm...Yes, a little,” Yuri confessed, his voice soft and airy, the small statement utterly exhausting him in a matter of moments.

Yuri set down his teacup, he trembling far too much to hold it steady, and immediately a warm hand slid over his own. Yuri glanced up, and he saw Otabek staring at him, his brow knotted with worry.

“Can you tell me what you are afraid of, my beautiful dancer?” Otabek asked, and Yuri flushed a little at the nickname. “Tonight, we must do it—it is expected, and most will be able to scent if we have not consummated our union. But I do not wish to frighten you. I wish for you to enjoy this.”

“Perhaps it is the unknown that I fear,” Yuri admitted with a small sigh of defeat, turning his hand so that he could lace his fingers with Otabek's. “I have been reassured from other omegas that it will not be painful if the alpha is a good alpha, and I trust you, but...so too have I heard that alphas _change_ during intimacy, and care only for their own needs.”

“Sometimes, this is true,” Otabek conceded, bowing his head a little. “Omegas have their monthly heat, when pain and arousal dull all the senses, but once a season, alphas experience what is called a _rut_ , where blind instinct takes over us, and we need to breed.

“In the past, I have locked myself away during these times, unwilling to expose others to this need,” Otabek explained, while his thumb brushed gently over the back of Yuri's hand, making the skin tingle pleasantly. “I would not wish to expose _you_ to it either, unless you truly wanted to share a rut with me,” Otabek concluded, circling the table but never once releasing Yuri's hand, until he stopped at the omega's side, and drew him into a warm embrace. “The law states that I own you, but I do not wish for you to feel like that, Yuri. I want my home and my bed to be _our_ home, and _our_ bed. I want you to feel safe here, not afraid.”

Yuri felt his breath catch as he wound his arms around Otabek's neck, and tucked his head into the crevice of his throat, inhaling the deep, aromatic scent of his alpha— _his Otabek._

It was an act he could never indulge in before as a single or engaged omega, but as a married one, he could at last scent his husband and feel closer to him than ever before.

Otabek's scent was like him—dark and rich, the aroma of sharp spices, autumn leaves, and crisp night air. It made Yuri feel safe, and reminded him that he was not with some mindless alpha intent on _one_ thing—this was _his_ Otabek, his husband. He would not hurt him.

“I'm sorry that I doubted you,” Yuri murmured, and Otabek hushed him gently, a hand moving to his back, and stroking it gently.

“I am sorry that I did not think to try and reassure you earlier than this,” Otabek replied. “I do want you, Yuri, and I feel that it would be foolish to lie about it, but neither will I hurt you. I love you, Yura.”

Yuri shivered, tears coming to his eyes as he replied, “I love you too, Beka,” whispering the words into the crook of Otabek's neck, and he felt another tremor course through him as his alpha drew him closer, almost to the point of Yuri sitting astride him. He coaxed Yuri's gaze up until their eyes met, and he captured Yuri's lips in a soft, tender kiss.

Yuri melted into the contact, letting out a little sigh as he kissed his husband in return. Otabek suddenly lifted Yuri up, and the omega's legs hooked instinctively around Otabek's waist.

“I have you, Yuri,” Otabek whispered reassuringly, “I'll not let you go.”

Yuri answered with another kiss, trembling with both nervousness and anticipation as Otabek carried him away from the dining room and their untouched tea, and towards the bedrooms.

Given that the last time Yuri had been in this house was well before their engagement was finalized, it would have been considered wildly inappropriate for Yuri to even _see_ Otabek's bedchamber, much less enter it.

Now that he could, he glanced around curiously when Otabek stepped inside, and found a hodgepodge combination of elegant and Spartan décor, as though Otabek was used to the barest of essentials, but had made an effort to spruce it up for Yuri.

The space was brightened significantly by both the additions of Yuri's own items, which leant more to the extravagant rather than simplistic, as well as clearly newer items that Otabek had likely purchased. Yuri spotted a beechwood vanity that bore a pale blue vase of freshly-picked daisies upon its surface next to all of Yuri's cosmetics, before his eyes slid to the rich red silk coverlet and feather pillows that adorned the canopied bed.

The sight of the bed in particular made Yuri shiver once more with both desire and fear. Otabek seemed to sense this immediately, and nosed at Yuri's throat, scenting him and reassuring him at the same time.

“Let me take care of you, my omega, my Yura,” Otabek murmured, pressing a kiss to his bonding gland in tender promise. “I swear that I will not hurt you—I will _never_ hurt you.”

Yuri nodded stiffly, swallowing a little as Otabek carried him to the bed, and set him down gently, as though he was made of glass.

Otabek sat next to Yuri on the bed, close enough that their legs brushed together. Yuri stared up at Otabek, at a loss for what to do, while his alpha reached out a hand, and petted his hair gently, making Yuri's eyelids flutter and breath catch.

“You are so beautiful, my Yuri,” Otabek murmured, staring at him reverently. “May I...?”

Even without voicing the request, somehow, Yuri knew what Otabek wanted to do.

Nervously, Yuri nodded.

Otabek pressed another kiss to Yuri's lips, then stood up and began to remove his clothing.

Yuri watched, mouth dry, as Otabek lifted his hands to the collar of his jacket, and proceeded to unbutton the garment slowly, one button at a time, until Yuri saw the line of cloth of the shirt that lay beneath it.

Otabek slipped out of the jacket, and laid it aside carefully. His eyes were focused downward, and not on Yuri, giving him the impression that though Otabek wanted this, he was also nervous about what was about to transpire in his own way.

Oddly, this knowledge bolstered Yuri, and he felt some of his apprehension leave him.

Otabek returned to the task, unbuttoning the shirt next, and exposing Yuri to a line of olive skin and hard muscle. Sparse, dark hairs that dusted across his pectorals, before beginning again just above his navel, and travelling downwards before it disappeared into the top of his trousers.

Where, Yuri noted, a considerable bulge was located.

Otabek smiled suddenly, a look of amusement crossing his expression as he glanced up at Yuri. For a moment, it appeared as though he wanted to say something, but at the last instance seemed to think better of it, and went back to disrobing.

Otabek peeled off his trousers quickly, but stopped himself from removing his undergarments and stockings, and instead crossed back over to the bed, sitting down, and placing a hand just below Yuri's throat.

“May I?” he asked again, his fingers teasing the topmost brass button of Yuri's jacket, and he nodded meekly.

Otabek thumbed open the button as he leant in to kiss Yuri lightly, his wicked tongue darting out to brush against Yuri's lower lip, startling and intriguing the omega in the same breath.

“ _Oh_ ,” Yuri said, not quite intending to speak, but his voice seemed to escape him unbidden.

Otabek smiled a little as he thumbed open another button, and kissed Yuri again, this time suckling on his bottom lip a little. He coaxed his mouth open slowly, until at last his tongue slipped into Yuri's mouth, exploratory and gentle, while he continued to slowly and gradually divest Yuri of his clothing.

Otabek continued to distract Yuri with his intoxicating kisses, while he helped Yuri out of his jacket, shirt, and trousers, leaving Yuri similarly clad to Otabek, in only stockings and undergarments. Yuri could feel his own arousal pooling in his groin, his cock aching in its confines, and arse sticky with slick.

Yuri knew the slick was to be expected, but it still felt odd when he was outside—but on the cusp of—his heat. His mind was not blinded by pain or need, and he could still feel his undercurrent of fear, still recall all that had happened, even as Otabek reached up to gently free Yuri's hair of its kerchief, making the blond strands tumble from the white fabric and into his eyes.

“You are so lovely, Yuri,” Otabek breathed, his fingers lifting to brush the hair gently from Yuri's eyes. His touch, tone, and expression spoke of nothing but reverence as he gazed at Yuri, like a man who was seeing the world for the first time.

Yuri did not quite know what to say in response, and instead chose to bow his head shyly. Otabek caught his chin immediately, and gently eased his gaze back up, but despite this, he never once forced the movement.

“My Yura,” Otabek murmured softly, lovingly, before he planted a gentle kiss to Yuri's lips. He asked nothing of him, but merely waited for Yuri to signal to his husband that he was ready to continue.

Yuri leant in, his movements hesitant and halting, until at last his hand fell upon the warm, bare skin of Otabek's chest, over his heart.

Yuri's breath hitched, catching the slow but steady vibrations of the alpha's heartbeat, it as calm and as soothing as the man himself, who seemed to be waiting patiently for Yuri's consent to continue, despite the obvious bulge in the front of his undergarments, displaying to Yuri just how much he wanted this.

“Can I...I mean, can we...?” Yuri started and stopped, his face flushing red, but the words he wanted to say refused to come.

“You want to begin, truly?” Otabek asked softly, and immediately, Yuri nodded.

Otabek stood up again, shedding his last few garments with little care. Yuri felt his face heat as his eyes were drawn to the thick, erect member that sat nestled between his husband's muscled thighs. A pearly droplet of precum was leaking from the tip, and already Yuri could see the faintest ring at the base of the organ, the knot already beginning to form, and marking him as an alpha.

Yuri was determined to show Otabek that he was ready (and he was, despite the residual nervousness that refused to abate). He stood and mirrored his husband, shedding the undergarments and stockings, before he hurriedly climbed back onto the bed, and presented himself.

Many times throughout Yuri's life, he had been told that sexual intercourse was something almost forbidden, something close to shameful, and something to be done with one's husband _only._ However, the sole time this rule did not seem to apply was during his etiquette lessons as a teenager.

Upon discovering his secondary designation, many people, including his grandfather, believed that an omega's success as a mother and houseomega lived and died with their ability to present properly for their alpha. At the time, Yuri had found these so-called _lessons_ humiliating, but now, he found himself grateful for them, in particular when he heard Otabek inhale sharply at the sight splayed out before him.

Yuri was upon the bed, propped up on all fours. His knees were spaced wide apart, and his spine curved, pressing his chest into the bedcover, and lifting his ass up high, with his face resting against the bed on its side. His arms were folded like the wings of a bird, and his palms were splayed against the silk, giving him some modicum of control over his position.

By Otabek's reaction, Yuri knew that he had executed it _perfectly._

Yuri's entire body seemed to relax as he stayed still, listening to the soft, almost uncertain shuffle of Otabek's bare feet across the wood floor before the bed dipped, signalling that he was close. Surprisingly, Yuri did not feel at all startled by the sensation of Otabek at his back. Instead he relaxed further, his eyes fluttering shut as Otabek's left hand rested against his hip, while the other brushed against his exposed entrance, making Yuri shiver.

The light touch made Yuri whine with newfound want, his slick seeming to increase in volume as Otabek touched him. He teased Yuri's entrance experimentally, and only when Yuri was on the cusp of _begging_ his husband to continue did Otabek finally slide a single finger inside.

Yuri's breath hitched, a shuddering gasp tumbling from his lips as the digit slid deep into him, far less painful than he ever could have imagined. Otabek kissed the back of his shoulder in silent reassurance, and waited until Yuri offered him a weak nod before he added a second finger, stretching him gently while he peppered the back of Yuri's shoulders with light, loving kisses.

“Ready, my love?” Otabek whispered, and immediately, Yuri nodded again.

“Yes,” he replied, murmuring the word into the bedding. “I'm ready, Beka.”

Otabek removed his fingers, and shifted on the bed until he was kneeling between Yuri's spread legs. Yuri shivered again both in anticipation and nervousness as his alpha positioned his cock with slow, careful movements, until the head was resting snugly against his prepared entrance.

The sensation caused a curious reaction within Yuri—instead of wishing to draw away from the feeling, he longed to edge back onto it, and feel his body join with Otabek's. Yuri forced himself to stay still, willingly giving control of the situation to his alpha, who wielded it not with superiority, but humility.

“Please, my alpha,” Yuri whimpered when Otabek had not moved. “Please, take me.”

Otabek let out a small, shuddering breath, as though he had been waiting for Yuri to say such a thing. He kept one hand on Yuri's hip, the other guiding his cock into Yuri's entrance, moving slowly as at last— _at last—_ the organ breached his hole.

Yuri trembled, a confusing mix of pleasure-pain lancing through him as Otabek edged inside. He was significantly larger than a pair of fingers, and the firmness of the organ made it feel almost as though a broom had been inserted into him.

Yuri's breath hitched, and Otabek's free hand moved to rest against Yuri's lower back, which he rubbed soothingly.

“Shh, my Yuri,” Otabek murmured. “Allow your muscles to relax. The pain will pass, I promise.”

Yuri inclined his head, nodding weakly as Otabek sheathed himself slowly inside the omega. He trusted Otabek, and knew that in this, his alpha would not lie. If he said the pain would pass, then Yuri believed that it would.

Once Otabek had fully hilted himself inside Yuri, he rested for a moment. He was panting a little, his right hand moving from Yuri's back to curl around his opposite hip, gripping him gently, but firmly, while Yuri nodded again, signalling to his alpha that he was ready to continue.

His alpha drew from him slowly, and thrust in at the same speed. Yuri shuddered, his body awash with sensitivity that he'd previously thought was only possible during a heat, and he mewled softly as Otabek once again pulled out and thrust back in, while Yuri backed up a little to meet his thrust.

Otabek hissed, though not in pain. He sounded surprised, but not displeased by Yuri's action, and immediately picked up his pace, thrusting back in a little faster and a little harder, making Yuri cry out in newfound pleasure.

_How could I have feared this?_ Yuri wondered with a hazy sort of shock as he tried to spread his legs wider when he felt the edges of Otabek's knot beginning to grow. _How could anything this wonderful be frightening?_

With every thrust, Yuri moaned, and Otabek let out a soft grunt. Wet slaps of their synchronised pleasure was the only sound that filtered through the space, made all the more wonderful by the knot nudging Yuri's rim, making the pleasure more blinding, more paralysing.

Yuri did not know what he could do beyond keen, wordlessly begging Otabek for his knot as it pounded against his rim with almost bruising force. It slipped in and out until it could no longer do so, swelling incrementally larger, just enough to lock them together while Otabek curled over Yuri's trembling, sweat-soaked form, his lips mere inches from the base of his throat.

“Have—have to bite,” Otabek choked out. “M-Must b-bite...M-Mate...i-it will hurt...”

Yuri nodded immediately, awash no longer simply in mindless pleasure, but awe. Alphas needed to bite when they mated—it was common knowledge. To force himself to stop in order to warn Yuri of what was to come was staggering—Yuri had never heard of an alpha being capable of doing such a thing.

“Bite me, make me yours,” Yuri encouraged, his voice shaky, his breath slipping from him in a gasp as Otabek's self-control crumbled, and his sharpened teeth— _mating teeth—_ sank into the omega's bonding gland.

Yuri's vision went white.

He cried out, searing pain lancing through him as Otabek broke the skin, red staining Yuri's fair chest as well as the bedspread, while at the same moment, Yuri found his release.

His ass clenched around Otabek's knot, and semen spurted from his cock at the same time while Otabek let out a distinctive alpha growl as he orgasmed as well. His teeth were still clamped upon Yuri's bonding gland, digging in harder, ensuring that the mark would scar, and he pumped his omega full of cum.

Yuri slumped into the bed, sticky from too many different fluids, but far too exhausted to care. The action dragged Otabek down with him, given that they were still tied, and Otabek grunted a little in surprise.

Gently, he manoeuvred Yuri under the sheets, his tongue laving over the new bonding mark, making it sting faintly, but oddly, not unpleasantly so.

“I love you, Beka,” Yuri whispered drowsily. “I love...you.”

“I love you too, my Yuri, my omega,” he replied, nuzzling the mark at his throat gently, and Yuri smiled, happy tears leaking from his eyes and into his hair as he lay there.

At last, the idea of spending his life with Otabek no longer carried any residual fear.

Yuri looked forward with hope, and even as he fell asleep, the knot still locked in his ass, he could not recall ever feeling happier.

 

~*~

 

When Yuri woke the following morning, the April sky was awash with cool grey light. A few wisps of late-season snow flicked past the window, but the sight of it did not chill Yuri's heart nearly as much as the vision of the empty bed that he found himself currently laying in.

Panic encasing his heart, Yuri leapt from the bed and dug into the clothes chest. He extracted a black dressing gown from its confines, which he wrapped around himself hastily before he hurried from the bedroom in search of his mate.

Yuri found Otabek in the sitting room, but his relief was short-lived.

He was upon the settee, hands folded, and re-dressed in his military garb. However, it was clear that this was not dressage for a special occasion—the sword and pistol holstered at his waist, and the unfolded letter upon the low table bearing an official-looking sigil was evidence enough of that.

“I received a letter this morning from General Iskakov,” Otabek said dully before Yuri could ask, unwilling to look at his mate as he spoke. “He is my commanding officer. I am to report to the front lines in Astana, ready for combat.”

The cold chill in Yuri's chest increased, and his hands tightened around the front of his dressing gown.

“When do you need to leave?” Yuri asked tentatively, and Otabek's gaze darkened further.

“Now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just wanna make sure you guys know that Yuri's use of “Oriental” here was neither a characterization of intended racist language, nor was it a reflection of my own feelings, as I am not a racist person. For the time period of the late 19th century, most Caucasian people would see an Asian person as “the Chinese” or simply as “Orientals”, and designation by a specific country would seem odd in this particular context. This fact is backed up by my Beta, who agreed with the language I used, and though I know that the language employed here will not be something everyone agrees with, I was aiming for historical accuracy here, and not an opening to sound like a racist.


	13. Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The next four chapters are going to be a little slow, and I did my best to keep them from getting boring. I hope you guys enjoy this update, and the next one is scheduled for March 31st. Happy St. Paddy's Day!

Chapter Twelve – Spring

 

_My Dearest Yura,_

_I arrived in Astana not two days ago, and already I miss you with all that I am._

_I feel as though I should not be here; the Kazakh rebellion that has erupted is fierce, and yet I must fight with Russia. This confuses me, but I will do my duty—anything to return to you safely, for I will not risk abandoning you. My commanding officer is confident that we will succeed in pushing them back, but this is a cold comfort when all I long for is your sweet embrace._

_Please be safe, my Yuri._

_Love,_

_Otabek_

 

The first letter that Otabek had sent arrived more than a fortnight after his sudden departure. It did little to cheer Yuri; every time he read and reread it, he was nearly consumed with a painful longing for his husband, and he hated how there was nothing he could do to help him.

Out in the countryside of his new home, Yuri found that there was little to do to take his mind off of his worries for Otabek. Minami had cheerfully shown him around their property after Otabek had left, showing him the sheep and chickens, as well as the vegetable gardens behind the house, and to the stables where the Altin horses were kept, including one for Yuri—a beautiful white stallion whom he had named Agape.

Though Yuri found his new home to be terribly isolating, up the road were a few houses and farms, but it took several hours to reach them each way on horseback.

Minami took care of all the household chores, as a good servant is wont to do, saving Yuri from doing them himself. There was a market that opened in a communal field every Saturday, but it catered mostly to the household staff and farmhands of the houses, and not Yuri's aristocratic blood, though he made a point to attend as often as he could, and looked over the available wares with Faiza and her daughter.

 

In a desperate bid to stave off his boredom, Yuri picked up knitting and bought several skeins of worsted from the spinners at the market to practice with.

He was not spectacular at it, and could not yet manage intricate designs. However, it was an easy enough task on simpler patters, and he rather enjoyed watching the needles weave wool into a design. It was a small accomplishment in a world where Yuri felt that he could do very little but watch time pass by, and had no ability to alter it.

 

Yuri updated Otabek on the little daily dramas of his life, from the bad-tempered new chicken in the coop, to his frequent but failed attempts to make knitted socks.

What Yuri did not say in his letters was how much he missed Otabek, and how lonely it was here without him.

It would only make Otabek worry.

 

~*~

 

April passed into May with little change, save for the warmer days that swallowed up the mountainous region. The rain was less, and the flowers in the gardens promised a good volume of fruit and vegetables for the season.

Yuri woke one morning in mid-May as he always did, alone in the bed he and Otabek had shared for a single night. Otabek's distinctive alpha scent had long since faded, but that did not stop Yuri from hugging the alpha's pillow close, and inhaling deeply in the hopes of catching what remained of his alpha's comforting scent.

Yuri got up slowly, dressed, and took breakfast with Minami serving him dutifully. Unlike his prior relationship with Yuuri, this servant was more rigidly professional, and never dropped his formal attitude with his master, despite Yuri's varied attempts to convince him that he would not be reprimanded for such an act.

After picking over—but not truly eating—his breakfast, Yuri stepped back to the bedroom where his washing basin was located. He washed his face and donned a light riding jacket, then went out to the stable to fetch Agape.

However, before he could get there, Minami stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm by the rear door.

“Master Yuri, please take this with you,” Minami said, his eyes carrying a look of concern that Yuri had not seen before, and he spotted a sack in the servant's hands. When Yuri accepted it, he saw that it was an overlarge lunch, bearing several apples, sourdough bread, cheese, and dried horsemeat, along with two skins of water. “I saw that you did not eat much this morning, sir, and it would be remiss of me not to notice. If you intend to go out riding, you must keep up your strength in the heat.”

“Thank you, Minami,” Yuri replied with a small smile. “This is very thoughtful of you.”

Minami bowed his head, a shy smile gracing his face, part relief, and part pleasure for his master's kind words.

“Ride well, Master Yuri.”

 

~*~

 

“Good morning,” Yuri greeted, smiling at the horse, while he reached out to run a hand along the creature's maw. It snorted, and pressed its head against Yuri's hand more insistently, making him chuckle. “Agape, would you care for a ride? I promise a nice apple for you if you agree.”

The horse snorted again, almost in acquiescence. Yuri saddled him up effortlessly, packed away the lunch Minami had given him into one of the larger saddlebags, and he rode into the mountains at a leisurely trot.

Yuri selected an easier mountain path to ride along, one where he would be less likely to cross paths with hunters, and risk the volume of their plunder for the day. It was quiet and peaceful, save for the gentle _clip-clop_ of Agape's hoofbeats, while Yuri tried to take in the scenery with more enthusiasm, and less melancholia.

There was little to see, despite Yuri's myriad attempts to enjoy the bountiful natural world around him. It was close to midday, and the heat was already clinging to his skin uncomfortably, even in the shadow of the mountains. Agape's large presence seemed to scare off most other creatures that might brave the path, though Yuri did spot a vixen with a kit in her mouth rushing away from them, as though she had only belatedly noticed Yuri's presence. Yuri could feel a faint spinning in his head as he watched the fox flee, it set seemingly just behind his eyes—a vague lightheadedness that he had not expected, proving that Minami had perhaps been right to offer him so much food to pack, and that he should have eaten more at breakfast.

“We'll stop for lunch soon, all right, Agape?” Yuri said to the horse, rubbing the creature's neck, though he did not respond to Yuri's touch. Yuri sighed, and rode off again.

 

As they rode, Yuri watched a falcon circle above them, as still and as silent as the wind while it glided on the air. It was peaceful out here, far and away from the life of the city, or even of his life in Samarkand. He should have enjoyed this peace and solitude, but instead he felt empty—hollow.

Lonely.

Yuri missed his husband, almost more than he could bear.

He sighed, and rubbed Agape's neck again. At least he had his horse.

 

~*~

 

Yuri stopped to eat at on small space just off the mountain path. He tied Agape's reins to the trunk of a young tree, and ate the food that Minami had dutifully packed for him.

Yuri made sure to share his water and apples with Agape, before he eased back against a rounded boulder to watch the wisps of cloud dance across the blue sky. He tried to find some sort of peace in his surroundings, but as was so often lately, he found himself ensnared by his loneliness.

“Perhaps I should write Beka when we get home,” Yuri mused aloud, and Agape huffed, as though in agreement.

After Yuri finished eating, he untied Agape from his makeshift post and climbed back on. Another wave of dizziness, stronger than before, caught him suddenly off-guard, and he shook his head a little in both confusion and surprise. Certainly actually eating should have staved off such a bout of dizziness, not exacerbated it?

“Perhaps I got up too fast,” Yuri muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes as his vision cleared, and adjusted his grip on the horse's reins. “Come on, Agape, let's go.”

Yuri felt a little better as he dug his heels into his horse, and the creature set off at the same leisurely trot as before, while Yuri's dizziness abated, and he supposed that it was nothing more than a fluke.

They headed down the mountain just as slowly as they had ascended it, Yuri stopping on occasion to watch the birds overhead, or observe the mountainous terrain, almost in hope of spotting a snow leopard, though he knew that they were rarely sighted so close to the ground.

Yuri sighed, and dropped his gaze reluctantly to his lap. The reins were clutched tightly in his hands, though he wasn't guiding Agape, rather, Agape was walking home, as though he knew exactly where he was going. It was a blessing, really, given that Yuri felt terribly fatigued from the trip, and was looking forward to a rest before he wrote to Otabek.

 

He made it back to the property in late afternoon, and he immediately spotted Minami standing by the kitchen door, watching his approach. Yuri lifted his right hand to offer the servant a friendly wave, but in the same instant a terrible dizziness once again overwhelmed him, but this time it did not abate.

In the span of a moment, Yuri's world faded to black.

 

~*~

 

When Yuri next woke, he was conscious only of a dull pain.

Thankfully, it was not excruciating, but a low throb that seemed to be centred around his right wrist and the side of his head.

“Ohh...” Yuri moaned, and he heard a soft shuffling of motion nearby.

“Doctor, he's waking up!”

Minami's voice cut through the quiet like a knife, and it made Yuri's head throb painfully.

Slowly, Yuri cracked his eyes open. To his surprise, the light of the day did not hurt his eyes, and he found the reason for this to be due to the fact that the curtains had been drawn, and the only light source was a shaded gas lamp upon his night table.

Minami was sat at his bedside, eyes wide with concern, and another man was with him, one whom Yuri did not know.

“Welcome back,” the man said, his voice deep and warm. He wore dark slacks and a white linen shirt, the trousers held up with suspenders. He looked clean, like some sort of professional, though Yuri did not recognize him. When he moved to sit up, the man held out his hands to stop him. “No, no, don't try to get up. You took a pretty nasty tumble off your horse, and you need to rest now.”

“Who are you?” Yuri demanded, easing back into the blankets grumpily. “What's going on? What happened?”

“Please, Mr Altin,” the stranger said, making Yuri start a little at the sound of his new last name. He'd rather forgotten in all the chaos of Otabek's abrupt summons that he was Yuri Altin now, and no longer Yuri Plisetsky. “You must relax. I will explain everything, but you must be calm, omega.”

Yuri's stomach churned unpleasantly at this man's use of his designation as a title, while he sullenly nodded. The man smiled, perhaps in relief, and turned to Minami, who was still at Yuri's bedside.

“Please fetch your master something to eat,” he commanded smoothly. “Something rich and nutritious. No sour or acidic foods.”

“Yes, sir,” Minami replied, offering the man a short, respectful bow, and hastened out of the room.

 

The man did not speak for a few long moments. Yuri watched him, and the way the man's head was tilted to the side gave Yuri the impression that he was listening to ensure that Minami was not eavesdropping at the door. Once he was satisfied that Minami was doing as he was told, he finally shifted his attention to Yuri once more.

“Mr Altin, my name is Doctor Georgi Popovich,” the man said, and Yuri blanched a little. Why on earth did he need a doctor? “I am the country doctor, and I service a great deal of the families who live out in rural areas. You fainted and tumbled off your horse, and your servant contacted me immediately. It is quite lucky that I was so close by, up the road, dealing with Mr and Mrs Petrov's boy.”

“Am I...ah, all right?” Yuri glanced down at himself in confusion. It was only then did he notice that he had been changed into a nightshirt, and an off-white bandage had been wound around his right hand and wrist.

“For the most part, yes,” Doctor Popovich replied, smiling at him warmly. “You got a nasty bump on the head, and sprained your wrist. With a little rest you will be just fine, Mr Altin.”

Yuri let out a little sigh, easing back onto his pillows. His brow pinched as he continued to regard the doctor. “Then...what caused me to fall? I remember feeling a bit dizzy throughout the day, but...I was eating and drinking, so it could not have been hunger or thirst to cause this...”

“Ah, I am glad that you asked,” Popovich said, his eyes twinkling slightly. “You see, Mr Altin, due to the nature of your fall, I was obligated to give you a full examination in order to determine what may have caused this unfortunate accident.”

“I see,” Yuri said, interrupting the dramatic silence, and frowned at the doctor. “What did you find out?”

“Ah, well, it seems that you are with child, Mr Altin,” Popovich replied, and clapped his hands together once as he offered Yuri a glowing smile. “Well done. And, it appears to me that your child was not injured by your fall.”

“I...I...I beg your pardon?” Yuri sputtered, staring wide-eyed at the doctor. “ _How_?”

“Well, Mr Altin, I am fairly certain you know exactly _how_ ,” Popovich replied, his tone almost teasing, and Yuri shot him a glare.

“That is a _most_ improper supposition, _Doctor_ Popovich,” Yuri sneered. “I will not be tended to by a doctor so rude as to suggest...” Yuri trailed off, and growled.

“I am sorry, Mr Altin,” Popovich said, though to Yuri he did not sound very apologetic. “While it is impossible to know for certain, I would assume that it happened prior to your husband's summons. Your servant was kind enough to inform me that you have not had a heat since your arrival, and in times of great stress or excitement, it is not wholly uncommon for certain heat symptoms to repress themselves, though often your ability to bear a child goes unchanged. Male omegas in particular are extremely fertile, and it takes very little effort to impregnate one.”

Yuri's stomach bubbled unpleasantly as the doctor looked on with his falsely kind smile. Quite suddenly, Yuri had the inexplicable temptation to reach out and _slap_ the man for speaking of him as though he was little more than a machine to churn out children. Worse, his use of the word _impregnate_ , like he was some sort of animal...all of it was so horrible, Yuri hadn't words to articulate just how angry it made him.

He clenched his hands into fists, and sharp pain lanced through his right one, reminding him of his injury, a soft gasp forcing its way past his lips. The doctor's smile became less warm, and more pitying.

“I will contact your husband, shall I?” Popovich asked kindly. “He is stationed in Astana, yes?”

“Yes—no—” Yuri gritted his teeth, shaking his head a little, making it ache again. “ _I_ shall tell Otabek that I am expecting. It is not your place to do so.”

For a moment, Popovich appeared surprised, as though Yuri's vehement need to contact Otabek himself was somehow shocking. Yuri didn't understand the look, and met the expression with a glare of his own. Popovich, apparently sensing Yuri's stubborn nature, sagged a little, and nodded his head.

“All right, then. I shall come to check on you in a few days, Mr Altin,” Popovich said, once again adopting a kindly tone. “Should anything arise, please have your servant fetch me straightaway. Rest, and stay in bed for at least five days. That bump on your head is no laughing matter, and rest of the mind is as important as rest of the body. As such, please wait until you are no longer bed-bound to contact your husband, or partake in anything else that might be mentally exhaustive, such as reading or knitting.”

“Fine,” Yuri grumbled, “anything else?”

“Not at the moment, Mr Altin,” Popovich replied. “Once your injuries are healed, we can discuss some things concerning your pregnancy. Do you have a living will?”

“No.”

“I would highly recommend that you write one. Having children can be dangerous work, and it is in the best interest of your family to have one. Good day.”

With that, the doctor left, and Minami slipped into the room at almost the same moment, bearing a platter of potato and mutton stew, bread, and some tea.

“How are you feeling, Master Yuri?” Minami asked softly, and Yuri heaved a sigh as he sank deeper into the bed while his servant stepped forward to rest the platter across his knees.

“I don't know,” Yuri replied honestly, staring down into the bowl, though he had little appetite. “Beka—Otabek, to you—should be here. He should be with me for this. I didn't think it would happen so soon. I know most families start right away, but...”

“You do not consider it a blessing?” Minami hedged, and Yuri shrugged a little.

“I don't know _what_ to think about it,” Yuri replied, stuffing a spoonful of stew in his mouth, while he ignored the twinge in his hand that the action wrought. “I think if Otabek was here I would feel better about it. Perhaps more...excited.”

“Master Otabek will come back, you'll see,” Minami said softly, his tone kind and reassuring—far less false than the doctor's had been. “Perhaps not immediately, but he would never abandon you, Master Yuri. He _loves_ you.”

Yuri nodded. He knew that Otabek loved him, but the aching pit in his heart seemed to grow at the prospect of enduring this pregnancy alone, without Otabek.

“Can you read, Minami?”

“Erm, yes, a little,” Minami replied meekly, and when Yuri looked up, he saw that Minami was bowing his head shyly. Something about the expression told Yuri that Minami might be understating his ability. After all, reading was a pastime of the upper-class, not a servant. “Why?”

“Go to my bookcase over there,” Yuri said, motioning vaguely to the small oak shelving unit he had bought at the market a few weeks ago. “Select anything you would like; I want you to read to me.”

“Yes, Master,” Minami replied, hastening to get to his feet, and he rushed to the bookcase, spending an inordinate amount of time perusing the titles before he returned with a book of Russian fairy tales, and sat himself dutifully at Yuri's bedside.

Yuri cast his eyes to the bedroom window as Minami began to read, his appetite forgotten.

So passed Yuri's first spring in the Altin household.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a quick note to remind you guys that this story is set in 1884. I know this is pretty obvious, but I'm saying it just so that if you come across some pregnancy factoids in this story going forward that don't seem completely accurate in our present time frame, that's because I am doing my best to keep it accurate to the period. (Such as drinking alcohol during pregnancy was a-ok(which, admittedly, I'm a little reluctant to include), and acidic foods or sour foods were a no-no)


	14. Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for April 14th. Enjoy! 
> 
> **NOTE: Due to 8 of my stories being stolen by fictionhunt in the span of a week, as of now all my works are being restricted to Registered AO3 users only, in order to minimize something like this happening again. I'm sorry for any inconvenience that this causes.**

Chapter Thirteen – Summer

 

_My Dear Yuri,_

_I wish I could tell you that I am overjoyed at the news of your pregnancy, but I feel only grief—I should be there to help you bear this burden, and dry your tears. I should be there to aid you through the trials of this, and be the one to prepare the nursery._

_And yet, I wish to remind you that you are not abandoned. I love you, my Yuri, my omega, my one. I long to ask my commanding officer if I could return home prematurely, but I am afraid that I cannot. It pains me deeply that I am unable come home to you at this time, and I almost wish that I had the courage to defect, and come home to you regardless what my commanding officer says. I am conflicted—what is the right course of action? Serve my country, save it from these rebels, or go home to you?_

_I want to say vehemently that it is the latter, but so too is the former a noble cause. Am I being selfish, wishing to stay and fight? I believe that if we push the rebels back, that in itself is protecting you—if they overcome us, they would not hesitate to pillage every settlement that they find, which they have already done in a few places. We can only do so much, and their numbers are very great._

_I promise that I will come home as soon as I can. Until then, I offer you the cold comfort of additional financial allowances from the bank—food, doctor visits as you need them, everything you need to be comfortable during this time._

_I love you, my Yuri, and I hope to come home to you soon._

_Otabek_

 

Yuri stared down at the letter, and blinked back tears from his eyes.

As he rocked in his chair on the back porch of the little house, Yuri stared longingly up at the mountains. He missed riding, but his doctor had forbidden for him to do so in his _delicate_ state, unless such a thing was explicitly necessary.

Foolishly, he'd hoped that once his injuries had healed he would be free to ride again. Unfortunately his doctor had forbidden it, and Yuri was sentenced to an infuriatingly sedentary life alone in this little cottage.

Yuri set down the letter on the side-table with a small huff, part annoyance for his predicament, and part longing for his Otabek. He used a round stone he'd found in the garden to keep the summer wind from stealing Otabek's letter, and he lifted the second one in order to reread it.

 

_My Dearest Yuri,_

_Included in this package are some teas, ones which I hope will ease your sickness and fatigue from the baby. I imagine things are difficult and stressful enough for you at present, and therefore I shall not speak on the horrors of what I have seen upon the battlefield. I fear that it may distress you, but please understand that my worry is not based in the belief that because you are an omega you cannot hear these things, but concern that if you are too distressed by my words, you may lose the child._

_I do hope you are not cross with me for this—I respect you, and I know that you are strong of spirit—perhaps moreso than myself. I like to think that my belief in your strength is greater than that of my comrades, if their words when they speak on their wives is to be believed._

_I am well, however; I have sustained no serious injuries. I am unwilling to die out here, amidst the stink and devastation of all that I see. I will get back to you, my Yuri, this I promise._

_Love,_

_Otabek_

 

Yuri sniffed, and wiped his eyes with his free hand, careful to keep his tears from blotting the ink, and thus obscuring Otabek's words.

“I miss you, Beka,” Yuri whispered to himself, and set down the second letter under the stone before he skipped the third letter, and instead picked up the most recent one.

 

_My Dear Yuri,_

_My heart swells whenever I receive a letter from you. I have stitched a pocket on the inside of my uniform jacket, and I keep all your letters there, over my heart. I know that I do not write as often as I should, but I am afraid it is only in times of quiet between skirmishes that I am able to write you._

_I do hope that your sickness from the child is improving. While I pray that I will be home in time to see our child take his or her first breath, I cannot see an end to my time away from you, and it pains me deeply. Only your words to me keep me from giving up all hope. You are my light in the darkness, my Yuri._

_Love,_

_Otabek_

 

Yuri set down the letter, and shivered, blinking tears from his eyes while he ran a hand over his stomach. It was still flat, and the only proof that his child was alive at all were the bodily reactions that he continued to face—sickness, flashes of heat, and dizzy spells.

“If Beka can fight a war for us, the least we can do is get through this together,” Yuri murmured to his stomach, rubbing a hand across the raw cotton of his shirt, just as Minami stepped out onto the back porch, and offered Yuri a courteous bow.

“Mistress Faiza has come to call,” he said, “would you like to see her?”

“Send her around back, bring us a tray of food, and have her horse tended to,” Yuri replied as he nodded his head and dabbed at his eyes with a white handkerchief. “I do not trust my legs at the moment.”

“Of course, Master.”

Yuri eased back into his seat, watching the edges of the cottage, just as Faiza rounded the right side, smiling warmly, a woven bag clutched in her hands.

“Oh, Yuri, look at you!” she said cheerfully, smiling as she hastened towards him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Yuri moved to stand and greet her properly, but Faiza waved him off, making him sit back down almost immediately. “Oh, no, no, Yuri, you sit down. We all know how being with child racks the body. You need to conserve your strength.”

“I feel fine, more or less,” Yuri replied sheepishly, tucking away his letters as he smiled at his guest. “Please, sit. What have you brought me this time?”

Faiza smiled, amusement glinting in her eyes at Yuri's lack of subtlety. Yuri saw no point to it—ever since it came out that he was with child, Faiza came by every few days with gifts for him, primarily food from her farm.

“Just some clover honey and jams for you, Zha`nym,” she said, opening the bag, and placing half a dozen glass jars on the little table where Yuri's letters had previously sat. There were four jars of golden honey, and two of different jams—one labelled _strawberry,_ and the other, _blackberry_.

“Oh, these look lovely, Faiza,” Yuri said with a small smile as he lifted up one of the honey jars to examine it. It moved freely, as honey is wont to do on warm July days, and Yuri looked forward to tasting it. “Thank you. You didn't have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” she replied, waving her hand in an almost dismissive gesture as she sat down next to Yuri, just as Minami returned with a platter of bread and tea, and Yuri moved the jars out of the way to make room for it.

“Shall I put these in the pantry, Master?” Minami asked after he'd set down the platter, and Yuri nodded.

“Just leave one jar of honey for our bread, thank you, Minami,” Yuri replied, offering the servant a friendly smile, and Minami returned it shyly as he nodded, gathering up five of the six jars, and bowed his way back into the house.

Yuri moved to serve the tea, but Faiza batted away his hands playfully, and did it herself, filling the fine china cups carefully, and slathering honey on two slices of bread, passing one to Yuri, which he balanced delicately in his hand while they eased back to watch the scenery.

“How have you been, Zha`nym?” Faiza asked conversationally, with the same concern as a mother, while Yuri bit into his bread, and nearly moaned aloud at the perfect sweetness of the honey— _fresh_ honey, something he could never get when he lived in Moscow, almost like the acrid taste of industry infused in everything, dulling it, and making it taste somehow _less,_ but out here, the freshness of the foods in high summer never ceased to amaze him.

“I'm all right,” Yuri replied, licking his lips before he sipped his tea. “A little bored, perhaps, ever since my injury and _discovery_ , but not...unwell, so to speak.”

“I will come as much as I can to keep you company, at least until the snows come,” she reassured him, clapping her hand on his knee affectionately, and making him smile. They both knew that once the snows came, the roads were virtually impassable until late winter and early spring, and he would spend several months on his own.

_By late winter, I'll have known Beka for a year,_ Yuri mused as he took another bite of his honey-soaked bread, then recalled that he needed to respond to Faiza.

“You don't need to,” Yuri replied at last, “I assume there is much for you to do at your farm, you needn't spend all your time with me.”

“My four sons—all betas, mind you—and my husband work the fields,” she said, smiling a little. “And my daughter needs practice of cooking for the family, in order to become a good wife. They will not miss me so much, I think. You are all alone out here, Zha`nym, and need company. Loneliness can be a sickness as well, you know.”

“I wish Otabek would let me go hom—erm, to my grandfather's house,” Yuri said with a small, despondent sigh. He sipped his tea, though it did not lift his spirits like he'd hoped that it would. “Or, at the very least, have my grandfather visit me here, but Dedushka refuses to come.”

“Oh, for the love of all things, I will never understand the mind of an alpha!” Faiza cried as she gripped her teacup harder, and gazed off into the clear, blue sky. “What are their excuses for condemning you to exile?”

“Otabek said that the rebels are targeting townships, and specifically ones governed by Russian families. He's worried that Samarkand will be targeted, and he feels that we're safer out in the wilderness, in particular when it is so far away, and so few people know where we live.” Yuri grimaced a little as he thought to the second-to-last last letter he'd received from Otabek, the one he hadn't wanted to read again—the one where his husband had momentarily abandoned all his feelings of equality between them, and _ordered_ that Yuri stay where he was.

“And what is your grandfather's reasoning?” Faiza asked when Yuri had been silent for too long.

“I asked my Dedushka to come and stay with me a while—he promised he would, but only after I was with child,” Yuri explained, and Faiza made a disgusted face, but did not interrupt as Yuri continued. “I had assumed there would be no issue, but he claimed that it would be inappropriate for him to visit without Otabek present, which I do not understand in the least—he is a single alpha, yes, but he is my _grandfather._ And he also insisted that in these trying times, it would be unwise for him to abandon his post, with everything that is going on.”

“I must say, though I am loath to admit it, your grandfather does have a point in his latter statement,” Faiza said with a small sigh as she nibbled on her bread. “These are dangerous times for all of us, and I worry what might happen if the fighting goes on for much longer. I do not wish for my husband or my sons to forced to fight by your— _our_ leaders, should things continue.”

“Do you suppose my grandfather only said what he said in order to soften the blow of...everything?” Yuri asked, and Faiza shrugged.

“I do not know, and the news I receive is often through gossip, so I am uncertain how reliable it is.”

Faiza let out another little sigh, and reached out to pat Yuri's knee affectionately.

“Come, let us finish our tea, then we may go on a short walk. The movement will help to clear our minds of this dark talk.”

 

~*~

 

It was late afternoon by the time they finished, and Yuri was quite ready for a rest.

However, he did not wish to play the part of an improper host, and allowed Faiza to shuffle him into a light jacket, and they meandered along the base of the mountains, not daring to go far after Yuri politely reminded her that he was subject to vapours.

“Have you been in touch with your friend?” Faiza asked kindly as they walked, stopping to observe a hawk that was flying overhead. “That nice boy at the wedding...Yuuri?”

“On and off,” Yuri replied with a polite nod. “I wanted him to come visit, but after Otabek's letter where he asked me stay here, I feel as though it may be too risky for him to visit, so he writes when he can—he can't read or write, and so Viktor has been helping him compose the letters.”

“Ah, _Viktor_ ,” Faiza said with a knowing lilt to her voice. “He is Yuuri's secret love, yes?”

“Yes,” Yuri agreed, smiling a little. He was still uncertain whether telling Faiza had been the right thing to do, it seemed as though she had no plans to tell anyone what was going on, which was a relief. “Viktor has been trying to teach Yuuri his letters, so that he can write to me himself, and not have to wait until Viktor comes round before he can respond.”

“Ah, I am certain that is _all_ that they are doing... _letters_ ,” Faiza said, chuckling, and Yuri felt his cheeks flush at her innuendo. “Oh, Yuri, you are too sweet for words, I should not have let you have that honey! _Certainly_ you know that more is going on there than simply _letters_?”

“I'm aware,” Yuri hedged, “I caught them a fair few times before Otabek and I married. I just hope that they are being cautious, that is all.”

Yuri's hand slid over his flat stomach, and he felt mildly sick at the thought—what would happen if Yuuri fell pregnant out of wedlock? Would he and Viktor be forced to marry? Would his grandfather dismiss him?

Yuri kept his eyes on the circling hawk. As it dove, with it went Yuri's prayers for his friend.

 

~*~

 

Faiza left close to dusk, with the promise that she would return the following week with more food for him—all sweets, to ensure that Yuri's pregnancy would perhaps end on a sweet and pleasant note, rather than an overly painful one.

“And be good to yourself,” Faiza said as she touched Yuri's cheek affectionately. “Eat what you wish to eat, drink what you wish to drink. _Rest_. Anything you need, I am not far, Zha`nym.”

“Thank you, Faiza,” Yuri began, smiling, and she shook her head.

“You may call me _Täte_ , or Täte Faiza,” she said, “we are family now, after all.”

“Thank you...Täte,” Yuri said, his smile broadening a little as he gazed at her, “You being here...it is like having my mother back. I appreciate how kind you have been to me, especially since Otabek was called to war.”

“I will always be here for you, Zha`nym,” she promised, and pulled Yuri in for a tender hug.

Yuri all but fell into the embrace, tears collecting in his eyes as he hugged the woman close. She smelled of spices and the sharp scent of farm life, and it was so warm and inviting that he had half a mind to beg her to stay, and not leave him alone so soon.

It did not replace his need for Otabek to come home, but neither did it feel empty and cold. Faiza truly cared for him, like he was a son.

In this warmth, so passed Yuri's first summer in the Altin household.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: “Subject to vapours” means that he had fainting spells. I'm not sure how well-known this particular fact is.


	15. Autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for April 28th. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Fourteen – Autumn

 

_My Dearest Yuri,_

_I thank you for the sketches you made of your pregnant belly—it is so big already! I had not expected that, but then, perhaps I am unaware of how big children are, as you are only about five and a half months along, and still have some time before our child comes. Added to that, do not worry if you think your drawing skills are poor—they were lovely to look at, almost like I was there with you._

_Do you need extra funds for maternity clothes yet, or would you rather wait a while longer? I have sent word to Faiza and her husband, Camran, asking that they help you with setting up the nursery. Faiza's eldest son, Malik, is an exceptional carpenter, and I wish to ask him to construct furniture for the child, unless there is another source you would prefer to acquire the crib and other necessities from._

_As for myself, the fighting goes on, much as it has these past months, with little change in the frequency of skirmishes, or a lessening of bloodshed. It seems almost monotonous now, and I wish our leaders could come to some kind of truce with the rebels—certainly this much violence is not helping either side?_

_I am well, however. I am determined to get back to you both, no matter what I must do to get there. You and our child matter more to me than every star in the sky, my beautiful dancer._

_Love,_

_Otabek_

 

Despite Otabek's sweet letter, it arrived a little too late for Yuri's liking, and now his house was overrun with almost too many Altins for his liking.

The noise was unbearable—banging and shouting coming from the nursery, half in Russian, half in Kazakh, and Minami, too, seemed a bit unnerved by the chaos.

“Do you think they actually know what they're doing in there?” Yuri asked dubiously while he gazed down the hall. He sipped his afternoon cup of tea, and nibbled on the honeyed pastries that Minami had made, but the pleasant food did not aid in making the noise any more bearable.

“Malik is an exceptional carpenter,” Minami reassured him, repeating almost word-for-word what Otabek had said. “I am certain that he won't cause any permanent damage to the foundation of the house.”

“Debatable,” Yuri grumbled, but voiced no more protests, grimacing as he ran a hand over his stomach. The roundness of it was now distinctive, and occasionally he felt movement from within. It made him feel oddly as though he was walking around on a stage, in particular when he went to the market on the weekend, where every single omega and beta female had something to say about his pregnancy.

“Don't worry, Yuri!” Malik called, his voice little more than a gruff grunt, clearly having overheard Yuri's remark. “ _Everything_ is under control—”

His reassurances were abruptly cut off by a high yelp, followed by a curse, which made both Yuri and Minami wince.

 

~*~

 

At the end of the workday the cluster of alpha men filed out, insisting, despite Yuri's offers, that it would be inappropriate for them to stay the night when Otabek was away.

“Alphas are so ridiculous,” Yuri remarked huffily, crossing his arms as he watched the men ride away, leaving their cart of lumber and other tools behind to resume the next day. “As if _any_ of them would have the guts to try anything with _me_. Right, Minami?”

Minami giggled shyly, but did not respond.

Yuri offered his servant a smile, pleased with the reaction to his words. Minami was still quite formal, but far less so than he had been when Yuri had arrived just a few months prior.

It was an improvement, if a small one.

“Shall we go see the damage, then?” Yuri asked Minami as he stood up with a small sigh, a hand falling to his rounded belly. Minami glanced down to it uncertainly, and Yuri shot his servant a glare, all but daring him to comment on him walking from the sitting room to the former guest bedroom.

“All right, Mas—Yuri,” Minami said, flushing deeply, as though he expected a reprimand, despite the fact that Yuri had asked him to simply call him _Yuri_ about half a dozen times over the last month.

“Come along,” Yuri said, his mouth cracking into a small half-smile as he looped his arm through Minami's, guiding his servant from the sitting room, down the hall, and to the nursery.

 

Amazingly, the room was not the complete disarray that Yuri had expected.

It was dirty, certainly, with sawdust and bits of wood coating the floor. Yuri had no idea why Malik had chosen to do this inside—this would be so much work for Minami to clean up, and he knew better than to try and help—his servant would only shoo him away and fuss about his condition.

However, beyond the mess of wood, Yuri saw the beginnings of the nursery beginning to take shape. A changing table had been pushed into the corner, rough and unfinished, and the crib was in pieces, still waiting to be assembled. A bookcase and rocking chair had been set into the room, both pieces of furniture completed, but that was only because Yuri had bought them at the market some weeks before.

“Well, this could be worse,” Yuri said, reaching out to touch one of the walls, painted from a deep, dusky blue, and they were now a soft white, like the shell of an egg. “I can't understand why they would choose to do all this rough work in the house, however...”

“Alpha men have an unfortunate lack of common sense,” Minami offered, and Yuri could not help but laugh at that.

“You are correct,” Yuri agreed once he'd calmed down. “Most Alpha men can be extraordinarily foolish at times.”

_Like leaving their mate behind to go to war,_ Yuri thought with a note of bitterness.

 

Yuri excused himself back to the sitting room to finish his tea, while Minami fished out a broom to tackle some of the mess. Predictably, when Yuri offered his assistance, Minami shooed him away, appearing scandalized that the omega of the house wanted to partake in such a low act as cleaning up.

Instead, Yuri let out a little sigh as he collected his teacup and sipped the warm drink, his free hand moving to brush across his slightly swollen belly, earning him a faint gurgle of movement from within.

“I hope Beka can come home before it is time for you to come out...” Yuri mused as he sipped his tea again, but nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a soft scuffling in the direction of the kitchen, far from where Minami was currently situated.

“Oh, please, God, don't let it be rats...” Yuri muttered as he heard the sound again.

Under normal circumstances, Yuri would have called Minami to investigate, but the inordinate amount of time he spent sitting lately had made him restless, and investigating for rats seemed to be just the thing to alleviate some of his boredom.

Yuri got up to follow the sound, stepping softly so as to not startle the creature—whatever it might be.

_Not rats. Please, not rats._

Yuri followed the sound from the sitting room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Yuri was faced with the long food preparation tables, which had been meticulously cleaned. Bowls of fermenting sourdough were covered with cloth, and a pot of some kind of stew was simmering away pleasantly on the stove. It filled the kitchen with the strong scent of fresh herbs and mutton, promising a delicious, filling supper for later that evening.

Yuri smiled to himself, running a hand over his stomach again, momentarily distracted by the aromas. This was to be expected, however—the pregnancy had made him _constantly_ hungry. Luckily, Otabek was well off enough that there was minimal risk that his omega would eat him out of house and home over the course of his pregnancy.

Yuri's pleasant moment was immediately replaced by a feeling not unlike grief, and he pointed his gaze skyward while he hugged his stomach.

“Oh God, let him come home safe, _please._ ”

The scuffling returned with newfound verve the moment that Yuri spoke, but this time it was paired with a sound that confirmed that it was thankfully not rats, much to Yuri's relief.

“ _Meow!_ ”

The scuffling was coming from outside the kitchen door, the one that led to the gardens and their small amount of farm animals. Yuri crossed the space and opened the door, and a kitten immediately tumbled onto his stocking-clad feet.

“What the...?” Yuri began as the cat meowed again, getting up and trotting over to the cooking stew before it moved onto its hind legs, its forepaws pressed against the cabinet above, and it meowed again, more insistently this time.

The kitten seemed almost too familiar with the house to be feral, much to Yuri's surprise, and it was clean and well-fed. It bore a dusty cream coat, as well as a sooty face and paws. However, Yuri could not recall Otabek ever having a cat, and this one appeared far too young to have been around before Otabek went to war.

Quite suddenly, Minami burst into the room, and upon seeing the kitten his face went white. Compounding the evidence, the kitten began to meow happily as it dropped back down onto all fours and trotted over to Minami, before it began to climb his leg, meowing all the while.

“Minami, I am fairly certain that your little friend has ratted you out,” Yuri observed, arching a brow at his servant. “It would be a little late to try and deny it, don't you think?”

“I—I'm so sorry, Master,” Minami said, sounding genuinely panicked, though his fear was a little difficult to take seriously when he had a kitten climbing up him and towards his shoulder like some sort of fluffy mountaineer. “I tried to keep him outside, his mother birthed him under the chicken coop, and then one day she disappeared, leaving him behind. I have been giving him saucers of milk and table scraps, but I haven't let him in, I _swear—_ ”

Yuri held up a hand to silence him, and Minami bit his lip firmly, as though he was forcing himself to stay quiet. His eyes were flooded with tears, and Yuri felt his heart ache with sympathy for his servant, in particular when the kitten wiggled up the rest of the way onto Minami's shoulder, and licked his cheek.

“I'm not upset with you, Minami,” Yuri reassured him, his voice slow and patient. “However, I do wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me about it.”

Yuri paused, stepping forward to extend a hand to the kitten, and it licked his fingers before it bit down experimentally, and Yuri chuckled warmly. Minami smiled hesitantly.

“I think we could employ him here,” Yuri said as he pet the little creature, silently marvelling at the softness of the tiny kitten's fur. “Our house could use a mouser, don't you think? And I am certain he will appreciate the warmth through the winter.”

“Yes, I think he would,” Minami agreed, smiling broadly at Yuri as his shoulders sagged a little with relief.

“Does he have a name, Minami?”

“Erm...I have been calling him Potya.”

“Potya,” Yuri echoed, and the cat meowed in response. “I like it.”

 

~*~

 

The next day, Malik and the others returned, but this time with someone else in tow.

“Täte!” Yuri cried happily when he saw her, and hastened from the front porch to greet her while she dismounted from her horse, and offered the creature an apple from one of her saddlebags.

“Oh, hello, Zha`nym,” she said affectionately, stopping after her horse had eaten, just long enough to pull a bag from another saddlebag. She moved to pull Yuri in for a gentle hug while Malik grabbed the reins of her horse, and began to guide it back to the stables along with his own stallion. “Goodness, every time I see you you're bigger! Come, come, let us get out of this chill, then I shall give you your gifts.”

Inside, warmed by a pot of tea and the jarring noises of shouting male alphas destroying the nursery, Faiza plopped the bag into Yuri's lap, it clinking in a way that told Yuri that it was likely more preserved foods.

Yuri peered inside, picking out the jars, another even half-dozen. Pickled peaches, dwarf cherry jam, wild apple butter, two jars of what Yuri expected was the very last of the season's honey, and a tiny jar of mint jelly.

“Thank you, Faiza,” Yuri said, smiling as he set down the bag on the ground next to the settee, and picked up his teacup. “With all these gifts, I will have enough food to last until spring.”

“I should hope so,” she replied warmly. “Winter can be dark, and I want you to pass it comfortably, in particular when you are looking at a midwinter birth, when it may be difficult to call a midwife.”

“Will it be...bad?” Yuri asked tentatively, sipping his tea, and Faiza offered him a soft, sad smile.

“It is painful, Zha`nym, I will not lie, but whisky or opium can help ease some of the pain. It will start with an ache, and then a wetness. It will take many hours to complete, but Minami will be here to help you. You are strong, Zha`nym; you have nothing to fear.”

“Do you think Otabek will be back in time?” Yuri asked tentatively, touching his stomach, and Faiza smiled at him sadly.

“I wish I knew, Yuri.”

 

~*~

 

A melancholia fell upon Yuri and Faiza while they listened to her sons shout, curse, and in general make far too much noise.

Startled by the sounds, Potya scampered out of Minami's bedroom, and he leapt onto Yuri's lap, curling up in a tiny ball across his knees.

“Oh my!” Faiza cried with surprise when she spotted the kitten, “and who is this?”

“Potya,” Yuri replied, smiling as he stroked the creature's back gently. “Minami has been feeding him, and I told him that we could keep him.”

“Oh, isn't he _precious_ ,” Faiza cooed, reaching a hand out to pet the kitten, and Potya glanced up at her, curious, before he licked one of Faiza's fingers as though in welcome. “Hello, little one! Are you going to keep this house nice and clean of mice for Yuri? Are you?”

Potya meowed as though in affirmation, and Faiza laughed warmly.

Yuri cast his gaze to the sitting room window while Faiza continued to fuss over the kitten. Eventually she gave into temptation and scooped him up, while Yuri's gaze remained fixed upon the intermingled green-gold grass, the red leaves upon the trees, and the grey sky.

His hand fell to his stomach, and Yuri felt a faint stirring of movement. Again, he sent another prayer up to God that Otabek stayed safe, and would be home in time to see the birth of their child.

In this haze of mismatched emotions, so passed Yuri's first autumn in the Altin household.

 


	16. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My brain is clogged up with Avengers feels, send help XD Next update will be May 12th, at which time I will have long since passed from this realm...to the land of...MY THIRTIES ;_; (my birthday is May 3rd, lmao)

Chapter Fifteen – Winter

 

When Yuri pulled himself from his memories of all that had happened since that first fateful dance, it was to a rapid knocking on the door.

Yuri glanced up, not quite willing to move, given how very pregnant he now was, and he watched as Minami scampered from the kitchen dutifully, though his eyes were narrowed, and he bore a pistol in hand.

Yuri felt his stomach turn over at the sight of the weapon; it was normally used for hunting, but Yuri knew why Minami held it now.

It was the dead of winter, and the roads had been closed for months. Snow had piled up to their mid-thighs in recent days, and as a result, anyone who approached their house would need to do so using a great amount of effort.

Though Yuri fervently wished for it to be someone friendly (or _Beka_ ), he knew better than to trust a hope. In these times of war, Yuri and Minami would pay dearly for any act of complacency.

Yuri wanted to get up and help Minami, but self-preservation, both for himself and for his unborn child, bid him to stay in place.

“Who is it?” Minami called through the door, clearly trying to sound commanding, but Yuri did not feel as though it had worked very well. “I warn you, I'm armed!”

“I'm here to see Yuri Pli—Altin!”

Yuri knew that voice.

“Let him in!” Yuri cried, pulling himself to his feet with a little difficulty, and he waddled towards the door.

“Master!” Minami cried, shocked by the order, and Yuri saw his servant's hand visibly tense around the firearm.

“Let him in!” Yuri barked again. “I know who it is, and it is as cold as death out there!”

Yuri hurried forward as best he could, even as Minami reluctantly opened the door, and Yuuri immediately fell into his arms.

Yuuri was openly weeping, clinging to Yuri, and in the process, he let in a draught of bitterly cold winter wind and a small avalanche of fresh snow.

“Oh, Yuuri, it's all right,” Yuri said, coaxing Yuuri farther into the hall while he glanced outside, where he saw a large draft horse, the saddlebags bulging with luggage. “Where's Viktor?”

“H-He made me come,” Yuuri choked, “the rebels...we heard them coming. Viktor made me leave. We packed Eros, and Viktor made m-me go without him. I'm so sorry, Yuri...”

Yuuri let out another sob, and Yuri hugged his friend close while he glanced to Minami, who looked distinctly alarmed by the distraught and unfamiliar omega.

“Come on, Yuuri,” Yuri said kindly, “You're as cold as death. We'll get your horse unpacked, and something for you to eat, and you can tell me everything. Come by the fire...that's it...”

Yuri coaxed Yuuri out of his winter boots made of some sort of animal hide, hung up his soaked coat, and then guided his friend towards the sitting room, while Minami bundled up and headed outside, clearly planning to tend to Yuuri's horse.

Yuuri was shivering, and his cheeks were tinged red and white, and his sweat-soaked hair was frozen in places. Really, it was a miracle that Yuuri was still up and walking about.

Yuri forced Yuuri down on the settee in front of the fire, and hustled to one of the linen closets, where he fetched a thick blanket for his friend. Yuuri tried to say something, perhaps a protest of Yuri taking care of him _in his condition_ , but couldn't quite get the words out due to his near-violent shivering.

“Are your clothes dry?” Yuri asked as he wrapped the blanket tightly around him, “do you need something to change into?”

“I'm all right, Yuri,” Yuuri replied, smiling weakly, though he was still trembling. “Please sit, stop mothering me.”

Yuri's stomach flip-flopped at Yuuri's choice to use the word _mothering_ , and his hand fell to the enormous swell of his stomach.

Yuri sat.

Yuuri smiled, still shivering a little, and Yuri jerked, intending to go and build up the fire, but Yuuri shook his head, smiling a little, as though indicating that he was fine.

“Tell me what happened, Yuuri,” Yuri said instead, and placed a hand on his friend's knee.

Yuuri's bottom lip quivered at Yuri's words, and he cast his gaze to his knees, tears dripping from his eyes and leaving dark spots on the fabric of the blanket.

Without words, Yuuri slipped a hand out from under the folds of the woven yarn. Upon Yuuri's third finger were two rings—a silver band with a blue stone inset in the centre, and a gold band resting just in front of it—a wedding ring.

“You and Viktor...?” Yuri asked, and Yuuri smiled, sniffling a little as he nodded. Yuri handed his friend a handkerchief, and he dabbed at his eyes, taking slow breaths as he tried to calm himself.

“W-We eloped a few months ago,” Yuuri explained, his voice still shaky as he cast his gaze to the fire, though there was a ghost of a smile teasing at his lips. “I hid the rings he gifted me with on a chain. When we got word that the rebels were possibly heading towards Samarkand, before it was certain that they would attack us, Viktor decided that it would be best to tell your dedushka of our relationship, just in case. I was afraid, but Viktor promised that if your dedushka reacted badly, he would support me, and I would not be turned onto the streets.”

“How did he take it?” Yuri asked, reaching out to take Yuuri's hand, and his fellow omega smiled warmly.

“Better than expected, actually,” Yuuri replied. He was still shivering, but to Yuri, it seemed as though Yuuri was calming down. “He was angry, and he shouted a lot about how it was improper for Viktor to marry below his rank, and tried to accuse me of seducing him, at which point Viktor protested, saying that he courted me, not the other way around, which was true. He also said that eloping was his idea...which wasn't true.” Yuuri paused, and laughed while his cheeks flared pink with embarrassment.

“Ah, you proposed to _him_?” Yuri asked, his tone teasing, which succeeded in making Yuuri's blush worsen. “How risqué!”

Yuuri laughed, his face still red, and he buried his face in his hands.

“Please stop, Yuri!” Yuuri cried, giggling, “you are making it difficult to tell the story!”

“My apologies,” Yuri replied, smirking a little. “Please, continue with your story.”

Despite Yuri's sentiment, he was not at all sorry. Considering how distraught Yuuri had been upon arrival, it was good to see him smile.

“As I said,” Yuuri continued once he'd regained some of his composure, “your grandfather was not pleased, but after that initial confrontation, he seemed to calm down, accepting it grudgingly, and even conceded to Viktor's request that we share sleeping quarters, given that it was our right as a wedded couple to do so. It seemed as though your grandfather had little issue bending to Viktor's requests, like he wanted to keep him happy, but whenever he caught me alone he was rather short with me, though never unnecessarily cruel.

“Time passed, with little change,” Yuuri continued, fiddling with the edge of the blanket, his eyes fixed on the fire as he spoke. “I was so _happy._ Viktor was so good to me. I even forgot that there was a war on. We would go out on my occasional day off, and we would dance in the streets. Viktor would treat me to all manner of delicacies, and gift me with fine clothes that neither of us could rightly afford. I felt like a _prince_ when I was with him.”

Yuuri hiccoughed as tears once more came to his eyes. Yuri frowned, and took his hand again.

“I-It was all going so _w-well!_ ” Yuuri cried, letting out a sob, and he brought Yuri's handkerchief to his mouth.

“Shh,” Yuri murmured, wrapping his opposing arm protectively around Yuuri's shoulders as his friend wept. “It's all right, just let it out.”

“B-But it's n-not all right!” Yuuri said between sobs. “V-Viktor m-made me leave; he told me to come here, and he s-said that h-he would c-come for me, but he's out there, fighting, and h-he wouldn't let me stay!”

“I know,” Yuri replied, thinking of Otabek, and swallowed his grief as he focused all his attention on his friend. “I know, Yuuri, it's hard, but they'll— _he'll—_ be all right. Viktor is strong, and would never leave you all alone.”

“I'm so scared for him, Yuri,” Yuuri said, his voice little more than a terrified whisper. “I want to have confidence in him, but...what if something happens? People die in combat all the time, what if he gets hurt?”

“He won't,” Yuri said firmly, not quite certain if he was talking about Viktor or Otabek anymore. His throat grew tighter, threatening to let his anguish break through his mental levee, and he took a trembling breath as he tried to focus. “I—I know he won't.”

Yuuri's hand found Yuri's free one again, and he clutched it.

They sat in silence, both lost in their own fears for their spouses, just as Minami stepped into the sitting room, bearing a large tray with a pot of hot tea, and twin bowls of rich soup.

Minami set the tray before them, and built up the fire a little before he turned back to Yuri and offered him a short, respectful bow.

“Is there anything else you require, Master?” Minami asked, and Yuri smiled weakly. Despite his continued requests that Minami call him _Yuri_ , he knew that Minami still felt it impolite to do so in front of others.

“Please have a bed made up for Yuuri in the guest room,” Yuri said. “He will be staying with us a while.”

 

~*~

 

It had begun to snow again that night. Yuri insisted on lending Yuuri some of his warmer clothing when he saw his friend's meagre selection, and as a result Yuuri was curled up by the fire, dressed in Yuri's sheepskin trousers, thick and lumpy home-made woollen socks, and a fleecy jumper.

Yuuri looked marginally uncertain about the clothing, as though he felt like he should not have accepted it, but Yuri would not hear his protests—it was a bitingly cold winter, and he would not have his friend freeze to death while he shared Yuri's home.

 

“Thank you,” Yuuri said as he nursed another cup of tea after their supper of potato stew and fresh bread. Yuri had lost count of how many cups of tea Yuuri had had, but he did not protest it—likely, Yuuri was still trying to warm up.

“You needn't thank me, Yuuri,” Yuri began, lifting his gaze from the white longclothes he was still trying to knit. “You're my friend. Even if it wasn't the dead of winter, I would never turn you away.”

“You are too good to me, Yuri,” Yuri said fondly, and he offered Yuuri a small smile before he returned to his knitting.

 

The evening passed pleasantly, and after Minami had finished his tasks, Yuri invited him to join them.

Shyly at first, Minami sat down closer to Yuri, and appeared almost scandalized when Yuri prepared his servant a cup of tea and offered it to him.

Yuuri, apparently sensing Minami's unease, said something in a language that Yuri did not know, and Yuri's servant let out a surprised giggle as he answered in the same tongue.

“What are you two saying?” Yuri asked, smirking a little as he glanced between them. Minami flushed and ducked his head like he'd been scolded, while Yuuri laughed a little, the vocalization warm and friendly.

“I said that you are notorious for being too good to his servants, and he told me of how you are so familiar with him,” Yuuri filled in, and Yuri chuckled as he once more offered Minami a cup of tea, and this time, blushing furiously, his servant accepted it.

Yuri eased back, picking up his knitting needles again, and offered Minami a wry smile.

“I never meant to make you uncomfortable, Minami,” Yuri said, the peaceful quiet filled by the crackle of the fire and the soft clicking of Yuri's knitting needles. “But I spent my life being seen as second class to alphas, and I do not wish to treat my servants as less because of their class, blood, or station.”

“You are very kind, Mas—Yuri,” Minami said, and flushed again at his verbal misstep.

“I do what I can,” Yuri said, smiling again, but did not lift his gaze from his worsted, intent on perhaps finishing a second set of longclothes before the winter was over, made only slightly more difficult by his pregnant stomach getting in the way of his work.

Yuri smiled, pausing in his knitting to run a hand over his rotund stomach.

It was indeed much larger than he had anticipated it to be, though many omegas and beta women would retire to their chambers well before the babe was born, to ensure that they would not have the child in an unsavoury place—such as the street. Perhaps Yuri simply had not realized just how _big_ pregnant omegas got during this stage.

Still, Yuri was looking forward to it being over, though he had never explicitly said so to anyone, lest they misunderstand and view his complaints as him thinking children as burdensome. Rather, it was quite the opposite. Bearing Otabek's child felt like a blessing in an odd way—like Otabek had left behind a piece of himself for Yuri to take care of, and keep safe.

By the same token however, it was not the most comfortable activity that Yuri could partake in. Yuri thought that holding a child in his arms would be much more pleasant than _this_.

“How much longer is it?” Yuuri asked curiously, clearly having noticed Yuri's actions, and he smiled fondly at his friend.

“Soon,” Yuri replied as he forced himself to pick up his knitting needles again. “Possibly _very_ soon. I would have liked my doctor to be here for the birth, but it is not possible for him to pass through the roads safely, so Minami will be helping me.”

“I have some midwifery experience,” Minami offered, “I am by no means an official midwife, but I know enough to help Yuri through it safely.”

“And if something goes wrong?” Yuuri hedged, and Minami paled a little.

“Nothing will go wrong,” Yuri interrupted firmly, not looking up from his knitting as he spoke. “I trust you, Minami. You will deliver my child, and both of us will get through this without any complications.”

Yuri glanced up incrementally, and saw both Yuuri and Minami exchange a nervous look.

Yuri huffed, and returned his attention to his knitting. He had a set of longclothes to complete.

 

~*~

 

The snow outside shifted in intensity, beginning to approach something akin to a blizzard. Minami braved the outdoors to ensure that the animals were adequately warm in the barn, while Yuuri insisted that Yuri get to bed, his suggestion almost drowned out amidst the howling wind and rattling of the windows.

“All this fussing really isn't necessary, Yuuri,” Yuri said with an amused smile, watching as Yuuri laid out Yuri's bedclothes for him. He tucked a warming pan into the bed before he lit the bedside gas lamp and at last turned back to Yuri, just as Potya hopped onto the bed, and curled up directly over the warming pan.

“Please, Yuri, it is the least I can do after you opened your home to me,” Yuuri said, smiling at him warmly. “I cannot thank you enough for taking me in, and you even fed me and gave me clothing. Doing little things for you is the _least_ I can do.”

Yuri chuckled warmly at Yuuri's repeated sentiment, but allowed him to do it. He even allowed Yuuri to help him into his nightclothes, and pulled the pan from between the sheets before Yuri climbed in, the linens now pleasantly warm, though Potya mewed indignantly, as though he did not appreciate losing his heat source.

“I'm glad you're here, Yuuri,” Yuri said fondly as he reached for his friend's hand. “It's been hard being out here with so few familiar faces, and—”

Yuri broke off abruptly, and Yuuri's small, pleasant smile began to fall.

“Yuri? Are you all right?”

Yuri touched his stomach, and his heart began to race.

“S-Something's wrong,” Yuri said in a panicked rush, “get Minami. I just...I—there is wetness. Something is wrong.”

Yuuri's eyes went as wide as saucers, but instead of obeying, Yuuri leant forward and dragged Yuri into a warm embrace.

“It's all right, Yuri, just relax,” Yuuri said, “nothing is wrong.”

“Something _is_ wrong!” Yuri insisted, his eyes beginning to bead with frightened tears. “I feel _wetness!_ It is as though I've soiled the bed!”

“No, Yuri, nothing is wrong,” Yuuri repeated as he pulled back a little, still smiling. Yuri felt a little sick and _very_ angry at Yuuri's relaxed approach to this horrifying development. Something was wrong with his baby—he could _feel_ it.

“Yuri, please, try and relax,” Yuuri said, still maintaining the same calm demeanour while he rubbed the omega's arms gently. “You're fine; that wetness is a sign of only one thing.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means that the baby is coming.”

 


	17. Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so excited to share this chapter with you guys. I hope you enjoy it! :D Next update is scheduled for May 26th.
> 
> Just to reiterate, in the spirit of keeping this historically accurate, the birth scene has been written in accordance with medical practices of the time, and does not directly align with what we practice today.

Chapter Sixteen – Coming

 

“Oh, God,” Yuri whispered, his breath escaping him in sharp pants as he gazed down at the bed where he could still feel the wetness between his thighs. “Oh, _God_.”

The baby was coming?

_No, this can't be right,_ Yuri thought in a panic, _Otabek should be here for this. It_ can't _be time yet!_

A warbling, unclear voice hit Yuri's ears. It took a moment for him to realize that Yuuri was speaking. In Yuri's haze of panic however, he could not make out the words.

A soft sob bubbled up in Yuri's throat, and he buried his face in his hands as he began to weep.

“Oh, Yuri...” Yuuri said, his voice at last clear to Yuri's ears, and he pulled his friend into a hug. “It's all right, it's going to be all right.”

“ _Beka_...” Yuri whined, his tears soaking into Yuuri's shirt as he clung to his friend and cried. “H-He should be here for this. I-It _can't_ be time yet! _”_

“We can try getting a letter to him—” Yuuri began, but his voice was weak and feeble, as though he knew it was useless. They both knew that the fighting had recommenced with renewed fervour, the roads were closed due to the season, and there was a howling blizzard still going strong outside.

Quite literally, they were completely cut off from the outside world.

“Yuri?” Yuuri said, and Yuri gazed up at him, sniffling weakly as tears continued to streak his cheeks.

“Y-Yes?”

“Will you be all right for a few moments? I am going to get Minami, and he will tell us what to do.”

Yuri did not want him to go, but he nodded nonetheless, unwilling to appear as though he was completely falling apart.

He needed to be strong, like his husband was.

Yuuri hugged him one last time, then darted out of the room and left Yuri alone.

Still sniffling, Yuri drew the blankets up higher around himself to stave off the cold, and wrapped his arms around his rotund belly, not quite believing that the baby was truly coming.

 

_Was it really?_

_Am I ready to be a mother?_

_Can I even_ do _this?_

 

“Beka, I wish you were here...” Yuri murmured to himself, hiccoughing softly as he lifted a hand to brush a few tears from his cheeks.

Suddenly, Yuri caught the sound of voices in the hall—of Yuuri and Minami speaking back and forth rapidly in their native tongue.

Minami stepped into the room with another oil lamp, their arguing (at least, that's what it sounded like to Yuri) ceasing the moment he entered the room. He set the lamp on Yuri's bedside table, then moved to his master and embraced him.

Under any other circumstances, Yuri may have been shocked by the overly familiar display, but at that moment, he welcomed it. He _needed_ some sort of contact, some sort of reassurance that he was not alone.

“I'm scared,” Yuri whispered as he clutched to Minami, and his servant's hold tightened on him.

“I know, Mas—Yuri,” Minami murmured. “Don't worry, I promise that I will take good care of you.”

“What happens now?”

“Your birth pains can start any time,” Minami explained, his voice soft and patient. “Yuuri is getting some hot water on the boil, and then he is going to gather the other things we need. All you need to do is to endure, Yuri. I will check you periodically, and when I see the baby's head, you will push, and then it will be over. It will take some time, and it will be painful, but you _can_ do this.”

Yuri bit his lip, and forced himself to nod. The idea of pain utterly terrified him, but he did not dare to protest.

“Would you like anything for the pain, Yuri?” Minami asked soothingly, “I can offer you a dram of whisky, but it will not eliminate it entirely.”

“I'll take the whisky when the pains begin, please,” Yuri said at once. “How long will this all take?”

“It could take anywhere from half a day to over a day,” Minami said, and winced when Yuri let out a small sob.

“ _Over a day_?” Yuri demanded weakly. “I—that's...that's too long! Minami, I can't _do_ this!”

“Yes you can, Yuri!” Minami said, smiling as he pressed his palms to Yuri's shoulders in a reassuring gesture. “I know that this seems frightening, and I know that you fear the pain that is to come, but you _can_ do this. You are surrounded by people who care about you, with a husband who _loves_ you. If not for yourself, do this for him, so that you can be here when Master Otabek is finally able to meet his child for the first time.”

“Do it for Beka...” Yuri murmured, more to himself than to Minami. “I...yes. I think I can do that.”

Yuri did not know if he believed it—he was still terrified of what was to come, but he had to be strong. If Otabek could endure months of war, then Yuri could endure this.

He had to—for their family.

 

~*~

 

Less than a quarter of an hour later Yuuri bustled back into the room, making several trips to bring in steaming water in a tea kettle, clean linens, towels, twine, a clean knife, and a baby blanket for when the baby came.

He also carried in the bassinet with Minami's help, and they set it by Yuri's bed.

The sight of the bassinet made the birth feel more real, and Yuri lay back on his bed as he tried to calm his breathing.

“Master, are you feeling birth pains?” Minami asked at once, and Yuri shook his head.

“Just...scared.”

“Try and rest, Master. The moment you feel any pain, please let me know.”

 

Yuri nodded reluctantly, already tired of hearing about this _pain_ he was supposed to endure, and closed his eyes.

He did not know when the pain would start, but he did know that he needed to rest while he could.

Somehow, despite his fear, he fell into a deep sleep, and he knew no more.

 

~*~

 

Yuri was roused unpleasantly by a sharp pain in his lower back, making him let out a yelp of shock.

Minami, who had been sitting at his bedside, was on his feet in an instant. Yuuri jolted awake from his own seat on Yuri's other side, his eyes wide with concern.

“Pain?” Minami asked, and with a whimper, Yuri nodded.

“L-Like...knives, and this...this... _pressure..._ ” Yuri let out an anguished moan, and clenched his eyes shut as Minami began to gently pet his hair.

“Just breathe through it, Mas—Yuri,” Minami coaxed. “It is all right. Would you like the whisky now?”

Not certain if he was up to speaking, Yuri nodded as another soft whimper slipped past his lips.

When Yuri felt the pain pass, he opened his eyes and spotted Minami pouring out a healthy measure of whisky into a glass. He passed it to Yuri, and he bolted it down, savouring the burn, and prayed it would do as Minami had said, and ease the pain. He fervently hoped that it would—he could not _fathom_ enduring this for so many hours without some sort of relief.

“How...how long was I asleep?” Yuri rasped once the alcohol's burn had subsided, the pain passing slowly, while his eyes fell to the dark sky. With the blizzard still going strong, it was impossible to tell how close the morning was.

“A few hours, maybe six at most,” Minami replied in the same soft, gentle tone as before. “The last time I checked, it was about four in the morning. I had not expected your pains to start so soon.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Yuri asked, “I do not like these pains, Minami, but I will endure them if it means my child will be born healthy.”

“It is neither good nor bad,” Minami replied. “It merely means your body is preparing for birth sooner than we anticipated.”

“But it still may take several hours, is that correct?”

“Yes, Yuri, that is correct.”

Yuri slumped into the pillows upon his bed, and gazed longingly at the bottle of whisky, wondering if it was too soon to ask for more.

He wanted this over, and yet, if Minami's guess was correct, he was nowhere near the end of this dark tunnel of agony.

Yuri let his eyes slip shut, and he drifted.

 

~*~

 

A jolt of back pain roused him sooner than he would have liked.

Minami and Yuuri were there at once, clasping Yuri's hands and petting his hair, trying to ease him through the agony as he wept. Sometime during his sleep a towel had been laid down beneath him and over the wetness, but this did nothing to ease Yuri's agony.

“Good, Yuri,” Minami said warmly once the pain passed, and he pressed another glass of whisky on Yuri, which he downed in one swallow. “There has been three hours between that first pain and this one. Yuuri and I will watch the time. As your pains become more regular, it means your birth is getting closer.”

“But I do not _want_ these pains!” Yuri choked out, breathing harshly. His hair was dampened at the roots with cold sweat, and Yuuri was silently dabbing his forehead with a dry piece of cloth. “Please, Minami, make it _stop!_ ”

“I wish I could, Yuri,” Minami said with a small sad smile. “I am doing all that I can to lessen it, I promise.”

Yuri let out a small sob as he slumped into the bedding. Under normal circumstances, he would have been overjoyed that at last— _at last—_ Minami was calling him by name, and not _Master._ In light of his present situation however, Yuri found himself incapable of caring about much beyond his fear about when the next pain would come.

Yuri clenched his eyes shut, and willed the world away.

~*~

 

The weak light of day did little to abate the storm, nor ease Yuri's pain.

Each time they came, Yuri clutched tight to Yuuri and Minami, crying out and weeping openly. His hair was wet, and the bed had long since been stripped of its coverings, save for the thinnest linen, which Minami periodically lifted to observe Yuri's bottom and check for the head.

“I can't do this, I _cannot_!” Yuri wailed upon the next birth pain, sometime around noon. “Please, Minami, make it _stop_!”

Yuri let out a loud, racking sob. Yuuri tried to hush him as he rubbed his back, though Yuri did not feel any form of consolation by Yuuri's presence or reassurances. He just wanted this agony to _end_.

“It's almost over, Yuri,” Minami said gently, though the patient words did not ease Yuri's mind, given that Minami had repeated them endlessly throughout the night, and they no longer seemed to hold any weight to them. “Your pains have been coming and going for thirteen hours, and they are now very regular. It will be very soon, I promise—”

Yuri wailed, cutting Minami off as the pains hit him again. His head fell back upon the pillows, and he squeezed Yuuri's hand _hard_.

Yuuri let out a tiny yelp before he clapped his free hand over his mouth, as though his own pain from Yuri crushing his hand was somehow shameful. Minami grimaced as his own hand was crushed, but he did not react until Yuri slumped back on the pillows, breathing hard.

“Yuri?” Minami asked softly, “how are you feeling?”

“Mildly homicidal towards midwives who ask such foolish questions,” Yuri retorted dryly, and Minami laughed weakly.

“Apologies, Yuri,” he said. “May I examine you?”

Yuri nodded feebly, and watched, unmoving, as Minami stepped to the end of the bed and lifted the blanket in order to examine him.

“Oh, thank goodness, I can see the head!” Minami cried, smiling broadly, and Yuri slumped down farther into the mattress with a groan of relief. Thank God, it was almost over. “That means when the pains come again, Yuri, you must _push_. If we're lucky, it will happen quickly. Yuuri, please prepare the towels and blanket, and sterilize the knife.”

Yuuri jumped up to do as he was bidden, and Yuri whimpered at the loss of his supporter. He was so _scared_ , how could Yuuri leave his side and condemn him to face this all on his own?

“It's all right, Yuri,” a voice said, and Yuri glanced up to see that Yuuri had paused in order to stroke his hair and dry his tears. Oddly, Yuri could not recall when he had begun to cry. “Just be strong. You can do this. We are all here for you.”

Yuri nodded, though he did not feel very strong. Yuuri smiled, and stepped back in order to do what Minami had asked of him. Yuri tried to swallow his protests at the loss, though it was a very close thing.

_I wish Otabek was here._

The pain hit again before Yuri was ready for it. Tears and sweat soaked his skin as he screamed, his body curling forward as he _pushed_ as hard as he could.

“That's it, that's it, Yuri, keep pushing!” Minami cried over Yuri's wails, and as the pains passed, Yuri slumped back against the pillows again, panting hard.

“I can't—I can't do this,” Yuri said, his voice reedy and weak, his face wet, even as Yuuri patted his face with a soft cloth. “I _can't_. I'm so t-tired...”

“You _can_ do this, Yuri,” Yuuri said, “I know it probably does not feel like it, but you are _almost_ finished, and all the pain will be forgotten when you hold your child in your arms.”

“No, I—I _can't,_ ” Yuri wailed, “I—”

The pains hit again, and Yuri cried out as he pushed despite his weakness. He _screamed_ as he pushed, his mind going white, the world lost, and became nothing but pain and agony. Yuri could feel Yuuri's hand crushed under his own, he could distantly hear Minami's cries, but the noise was senseless, and he could not tell if Minami was encouraging him or not.

The world seemed to come flooding back when the pain momentarily ceased, and as he slumped back, he saw Minami smiling at him.

“You're doing very well, Yuri, just a little more!”

Yuri let out another sob—he didn't _want_ to push anymore.

Nevertheless, when the pains came, he saw no option but to push again. He pushed, determined for this to be _over,_ and when a rasping cry filled the air, Yuri's eyes flooded with tears.

“It's a boy,” Yuuri announced, smiling, and Yuri whimpered, both in pain and in a swell of emotion as he watched Minami's arms fill with the baby, the child crying hoarsely, while Minami deftly wrapped the cord in twine and cut it before he passed him to Yuuri in order to clean him and wrap him in a blanket.

Yuri's mind shifted to a blissful blank.

He had a _son_.

More birth pains hit Yuri abruptly, and he let out another cry that startled both Yuuri and Minami, making them jump.

“Yuri?” Minami asked urgently, “what is the matter?”

“Hurts...” Yuri choked out, confused and frightened. He felt the urge to push still, but his child was _there_ in Yuuri's arms, still covered somewhat in birthing fluids, blood, and who knew what else.

Minami crouched down to inspect Yuri's bottom, even as Yuri continued to cry out in pain.

“Just push, Yuri, listen to your body,” Minami said. “It's all right, you're safe, and nothing is wrong.”

“Nothing is _wrong?_ ” Yuri sputtered between harsh gasps of breath, “my child is _there!_ In Yuuri's arms! And yet the pain has not ceased!”

“Yes, but that is because there is a _second_ child who wants to come out,” Minami said patiently, and Yuri felt himself go white.

“A...A... _second_?”

“Please panic later, Yuri,” Minami advised, “twins are exhausting to birth, but you _can_ do it. Just stay with me, all right?”

“No, I—I can't do it, I'm so _tired—_ ” Yuri began to protest, but Minami cut him off quickly. In his peripheral vision, Yuri saw that Yuuri was bathing his son carefully, even as the boy continued to cry.

The sight of Yuri's son bolstered him, and as the next pain came, he _pushed_.

 

Yuri lost count of the times he pushed. He wept even as Yuuri swaddled his son in a white blanket and held him close, rocking the baby boy while Yuri continued to cry out, curse, and _push_.

After more than an hour, a second infantile cry rent the air, and at last— _at last—_ the pain began to subside.

“It's a girl,” Minami pronounced, smiling as he tied the cord with twine and cut it, then he bathed the little girl, before she, too, was wrapped in a blanket.

Yuri was trembling from exhaustion. Outside, the sunlight was beginning to filter through the storm more strongly than before, as though the heavens were praising the two births.

“Give me my children,” Yuri commanded, holding his arms out.

Both of the omegas obeyed, and helped Yuri arrange the two bundles in his arms, and he gazed down at them reverently.

His _children_.

The boy bore a small tuft of blond hair on his head. It was barely visible, but there nonetheless. The girl's hair was dark, and her olive skin told Yuri that she would be very much the spitting image of her father. Both of them bore baby blue eyes, hinting that they were likely to shift to green later in life, matching his own.

Yuri hugged them both close, inhaling their scent, while he wept again, this time with joy. Yuuri and Minami were talking softly, though the occasional word he caught told him they were discussing logistics, given that they only had one bassinet and one crib for the babies, and not two.

It didn't matter—none of it did. He had his children, and they were all alive and safe. Nothing else mattered.

“They are beautiful, Yuri,” Yuuri said, drawing Yuri out of his haze of joy, and he glanced up to see his friend sitting at the end of his bed. “You must be so proud.”

“I am,” Yuri replied, his voice raspy and thick with exhaustion. Minami was no longer in the room, but he supposed his servant was off determining how to best let both babies rest comfortably, given their limited supplies. “I only wish that Otabek was here.”

“He will come,” Yuuri replied reassuringly, reaching out to momentarily rest a hand on Yuri's knee. “I know it may not feel like it—he has been gone for many months, after all, but he loves you—we could all see it. He would never abandon you or your children, no matter what he has to do to get back here.”

“I know,” Yuri replied, smiling a little. “I _do_ know that. I just...he should have been here for this.”

“Perhaps he will be here for the next one,” Yuuri teased, and Yuri huffed a soft laugh.

“Please do _not_ tempt fate, Yuuri,” Yuri said. “I am quite content to enjoy my children for a long time yet without yearning for more.”

“With two such beautiful babes, I do not doubt it,” Yuuri replied, smiling warmly. “Have you considered names yet?”

“Yes,” Yuri replied, smiling wearily. “Yasha for my son, and Sofia for my daughter.”

“Beautiful names, Yuri,” Yuuri said, “I know that Otabek will be so proud.”

Yuri nodded, hugging the bundles close. They were sleeping soundly, thank the heavens, but Yuri knew enough about newborns that it was not likely to last long. At the very least, Yuri hoped to have an hour or so of rest before his children began to cry for his attention—he was so _tired_ , but yet unwilling to let go of the two infants.

As they sat there, Yuri still embracing his children lovingly, Minami stepped back into the bedroom with dust in his hair and bearing a very old but sturdy-looking bassinet. Yuuri and Minami took to cleaning it and lining it with fresh blankets, while Yuri's eyes fixed upon the bedroom window, hoping beyond hope that Otabek might burst the door in any moment to see his children for the first time, late, but nevertheless _there_.

Despite Yuri's most fervent hopes, the winter was silent, and Otabek did not appear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yasha is a Russian name, and Sofia is a Kazakh name, the latter according to babynamewizard.com. (This particular iteration of the name is also Finnish, Greek, Spanish, and Swedish, and probably more, if I looked hard enough.)


	18. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for June 9th. Enjoy! :) Glossary for Russian terms in this chapter is in the endnotes.

Chapter Seventeen – Waiting

 

Yuri sat by his bedroom window, his mind lost in a cloud of melancholic longing.

The sky was a pale grey that day, but oddly bright, as though the sun was determined to shine despite the cloud cover. In Yuri's hands, he bore his usual knitting needles, feverishly trying to make more long clothes for the children, but not getting very far with two fussy babies to tend to.

It had been a week since the birth, and though Yuri was still quite sore, he could move around more freely than he had anticipated. He took full advantage of this as he walked around, touched his toes, and even—to Minami's horror—helped in the kitchen from time to time.

 

Yuri was aware that it was common practice, and even _expected_ for him to stay in bed for a while yet to recover, but he just _couldn't sit still_.

Not that he really could—Yasha was a fussy child who often cried if he wasn't being held. Sofia was more quiet, and seemed only to protest when Yuri took too long to change her or when she went hungry for too long.

At the moment however, both children were quiet.

The week-old babies had been placed side-by-side in the bassinets. Yuri had learnt early on that the pair seemed to be more content when they could see each other, or be close. Yuuri had promised to remedy this by weaving a bigger bassinet for them, but such a craft took time, and in the meanwhile Yuri and Minami were doing all they could to keep the babies happy and content.

Now, the only thing that was missing was their father.

Yuri smiled to himself, pausing in his work to glance down at the infants. He longed to reach out and touch Yasha or Sofia's cheek, but he'd rather they stayed asleep, and curbed the impulse.

Yuri heaved a despondent sigh. He had received not a _word_ from Beka since the fighting had recommenced in earnest, and he hated how nervous it was making him.

Yuri did not wish to consider the reasons why that could be. If he thought on it for too long, he was certain that he would lose what little hope he had left that Beka would _ever_ return.

Yasha whined abruptly and began to squirm in his blanket. Potya, who had been sleeping upon the bed, immediately got up and stood on his hind legs to observe the discontented infant. Yuri smiled fondly as he set aside his knitting in order to scoop his son up.

“Oh, Yasha, are you missing your Otets too?” Yuri crooned as he held Yasha close and rocked him gently while his sister slept on. He rubbed the boy's back, and soon he settled, his cheek pressed to Yuri's chest, tiny fingers escaping the clutches of his blanket in order to wind through the front of Yuri's shirt. The touch was uncoordinated and not quite a perfect grip yet, but it spoke to Yuri how desperately needy his Yasha was.

“I love you too, _l'vionak_ ,” Yuri breathed against his head, before he pressed a gentle kiss to his light hair. “I promise that Otets will be home soon, I _promise_...”

Yuri bit his lip as the baby calmed, and he prayed that his promises would come true.

 

The moment that Yasha settled, Sofia began to fuss. Yuri traded the babies with the intent to calm his daughter, but the moment that Yasha's back touched his blankets, he began to cry again.

“Oh, _l'vionak_ , please...” Yuri said as he whined a little, but he tried to keep his voice even so as to not upset either infant. “Goodness...I need more arms...”

“Would you like some help, Master?”

Yuri could have sang his relief when he saw Minami peering into the room. His hair had been pushed back from his face with a white kerchief, and it seemed as though he'd paused in his cleaning duties in order to come and see what was the matter.

“Please,” Yuri said with a relieved sigh as Minami stepped in, smiling and cooing as he carefully lifted the crying baby into his arms.

Immediately Yasha stopped crying, and Yuri could not help but chortle a little at how swiftly his servant was able to calm his child.

“Shall I start calling you _T_ _ë_ _tka_?” Yuri teased, and he smiled when Minami flushed pink. “You are so good with him, Minami.”

“I have always had a way with children,” Minami said with a fond smile, “but few chances to hold one.”

“Perhaps you will have the opportunity for yourself one day,” Yuri offered as he sat down with Sofia and began to unfasten his shirt, before he brought the babe to his chest to nurse.

“Oh, Master, my only duty is to you and Master Otabek!” Minami protested, while Yuri smiled again and shook his head.

“Do not cut yourself off, Minami,” Yuri said as Sofia latched on and began to gently suckle, an odd feeling, in particular when his chest had changed little in appearance since the birth. “If such a thing is truly needed, you have my _permission_ to love another. I would not wish to cut you out of the world merely because of your place in it.”

“You are so kind, Master,” Minami said, bowing his head shyly, and Yuri offered him another small smile.

 

~*~

 

The day passed much in the same way. It was quiet and dull, the monotony broken only by the fussing of the twins, and yet Yuri could never bring himself to be cross with them for their cries.

_His children._

Even after so many days of it, it still felt surreal.

In the early evening, after supper of roast chicken, Yuri was back in his room, one arm full of Yasha, who was still fussing whenever he was set down, and the other was brandishing a pen that had been dipped in an inkwell, which he was using to write a letter to his Beka.

 

_My Dearest Otabek,_

_I write to you now not with tears of sorrow, but of joy—you are a father!_

_On the night of February 19 th, and into the morning of the 20th, it became the time for your child to come. Yes, it was painful, I shall not lie to you, and it took many hours for the child to be born—a boy, whom I have named Yasha._

_However, to my surprise (though not immediate delight) the pain continued, and when Minami discovered the cause—why, it was a second_ _child!_

_Yes, my Beka, twins._

_The second was a girl, whom has been named Sofia. I had been told that that is a Kazakh name, and I hope that you like it. I do not wish to tamp out your heritage with my own by any means, and one way that I could think of to honour you in your absence was by naming one of the children using a name from your homeland._

_I know that the fighting goes on—it has been many weeks since your last letter, and my dearest hope is that your silence is from the accumulation of snow, and not something more dire. However, upon Yuuri's arrival (my former servant and current friend, if you recall) my worries have increased, knowing that Samarkand has been invaded._

_If I were to ask God for one more miracle beyond the two I hold in my arms, it would be that you would survive this, my Beka, and come home to us._

_Please be safe, my soldier._

_All my love,_

_Yuri_

 

Yuri eased back in his seat, still cradling Yasha, while he stared at the missive.

He knew that the battle was fierce at the moment—all the scant whispers and rumours that had managed to make their way to them had said so, and Yuri was terrified that Otabek had fallen in battle. If he sent it, would the words cheer him and spur him to fight harder, or would it distract him?

Yuri glanced down to the babe in his arms. Yasha seemed to be sleeping, though Yuri knew that it was unlikely to last long if he settled him into his bassinet. He didn't know what to do.

Yuri heard a soft creak near to his doorway, and turned to see Yuuri standing there, his fist hovering near the door, as though he was hesitant to knock.

“ _Don't you dare_ ,” Yuri whispered threateningly, though he was smiling as he said it. “If he wakes, I am holding you responsible, Yuuri.”

“I was just wondering if you would like to join us in the sitting room,” Yuuri explained, keeping his voice low. “Minami and I have prepared a pot of tea and some _gozinakhi._ You have spent so many nights alone with the children—won't you join us?”

“If I can get him down without him waking up, then that sounds _wonderful_ , Yuuri,” Yuri said, which earned him a warm, beaming smile.

 

As though Yasha also wished for Yuri to have something of a brief respite, the babe stayed asleep when his mother set him down. Yuri knew it would probably not last long, and he padded silently to the sitting room where Minami was waiting with the promised pastries, a pot of tea, and a roaring fire in the grate.

Yuri forced himself to smile through his continued concerns for his husband. He accepted one of the honey-walnut pastries from Minami, as well as a strong cup of tea. However, the food and drink did little to warm his heart as his gaze drifted to the window, deaf to Yuuri and Minami's attempts to engage him in conversation.

Yuri felt a niggling sense of guilt as he sat there, not quite able to detach his mind from his worries and talk with the others normally. He wanted to— _badly—_ but he could not stop worrying for Otabek, and he almost hoped that one of the twins would cry so that he would have an opportunity to escape the situation and be alone.

As though on cue, he heard Sofia let out a hungry wail.

_Thank God,_ Yuri thought, forcing an apologetic smile as he set his teacup and dessert plate down, and he hastened back to the bedroom to tend to his child.

 

~*~

 

A second week passed by much in the same fashion, then a third. All the while, Yuri's letter to Otabek sat on his writing desk, woefully unsent.

February gave way to March, and Yuri's birthday zipped by with no word from Otabek.

Yuri began to despair that Otabek was truly never going to come home. The snow was finally starting to melt, and spring was beginning to encroach on them. The roads were not _technically_ open yet, but nevertheless Yuri began to see travellers—soldiers—marching away from their little hamlet and towards Samarkand.

 

~*~

 

Halfway through March, Yuri was abruptly shaken awake by Minami in the early predawn hours, much to Yuri's displeasure.

“What—what is it?” Yuri asked groggily, “Minami, for the love of all that is holy, stop _shaking_ me!”

“Apologies, Master,” Minami replied in a hasty, hushed tone. It was only then that Yuri noticed how frightened Minami looked—his eyes were wide, and he looked very pale. “There is a coach outside, and I don't recognize the driver. It has been out there for almost a quarter of an hour.”

“Get Yuuri up,” Yuri commanded, rolling out of bed and snatching up his dressing gown. “Get the pistols, and prepare to run. It could be bandits.”

Minami did not pause to ask questions as he obediently raced from the room, and Yuri heard him running to Yuuri's room to wake him. At the same time, Yuri gently gathered his children into his arms, hushing them as they whined with discontentment, and bundled them in extra blankets, just in case they needed to run into the mountains for safety. Yuri stepped into his boots, then silently crept into the sitting room, avoiding the windows as he went—he did not wish to give these ruffians an easy target.

The babies were still fussing, but not loud enough that Yuri needed to worry that they would be audible from the road. Minami and Yuuri were already in the room, each dressed haphazardly in both pyjamas as well as winter coats and boots, and they each clutched a pistol, their expressions hard and frightened.

Yuri crouched down by the window's edge, turning just enough to see outside, but not enough to worry that he might be seen. The darkness outside meant that the likelihood of him being seen at all was slim, but Yuri did not wish to take unnecessary risks when he had two lives whom depended entirely upon him.

Yuri could see very little—the coach was not much more than a silhouette against the deep, dark blue of the sky. He could hear the low murmur of male voices, at least two of them, though he could not make out the words.

Yuri heard the coach's door open, and Yuri peered out again. A man with a cane was stepping out, though despite the implement, what little Yuri could see of him was the shape of a young man, and not an elderly one.

Suddenly, the voice of the man with the cane filtered back to the house, and Yuri very nearly dropped the bundles in his arms.

“ _For the love of—stop_ coddling _me, Viktor, I told you I'm all right!_ ”

_Otabek._

The others must have heard it too. When Yuri glanced up, he saw that Yuuri's and Minami's eyes were both gleaming with tears of surprise, relief, and joy.

Minami held out his arms for the twins, and Yuri gratefully handed them over, beaming as he watched Yuuri hasten just ahead of him, oil lamp in hand, illuminating his flushed cheeks and the excitement in his eyes.

Yuri called to Yuuri to wait for him, but it was too late—he heard an excited cry as the door swung open, and the subsequent faint but distinct grunt of Yuuri leaping into Viktor's arms.

Yuri waited only long enough to ensure that the babies were secure in Minami's arms when he moved to get up, but just as suddenly he had the sudden spark of an idea.

“Give me Sofia,” Yuri whispered in a rush. “Say nothing of Yasha until I say so.”

Minami appeared confused, but he nodded, handing the baby girl over before Yuri straightened up at last, and made for the front door.

The door was hanging open and swinging a little on its hinges. Potya was sitting just inside the door, his tail flicking almost irritably, as though he did not like the idea of more people coming into his house.

Yuri paid the cat no mind; he could feel himself trembling, and as he stepped out of the door and shut it behind him, he saw Otabek's silhouette freeze.

Yuri did not stop, but kept striding forward, his breath escaping him almost in a gasp as he moved.

Closer, Yuri could see Otabek at last, after ten months of absence.

By and large, he still looked the same. However, there were a few new patches stitched onto his shoulder, including one that signified him as a sergeant now, instead of merely a private. He was bracing his weight on a wooden cane, and a patch covered his left eye. Even in the darkness, Yuri could see tiny flecks of white scarring that cut through his eyebrow before it disappeared under the little piece of fabric, showing how extensive the damage truly was.

“Why, hello there,” Otabek said gently, his voice soft, almost reverent as he reached one hand out to lightly touch Yuri's cheek. Yuri laughed, blinking his eyes once, and causing tears to streak his cheeks. “Oh, no tears, my beautiful dancer. I am home, for good—I _promise.”_

Yuri moved in closer, unable to staunch the tears, while Sofia squirmed in her blanket fussily.

Otabek looked down, his visible eye crinkling in the corner as he smiled. His hand moved from Yuri's cheek to the baby, and touched her face gently. Sofia's little fists wiggled out from under the blanket, and she reached for her father clumsily.

“Oh, little one,” Otabek breathed. “Why, you are so small.”

“I think she likes you,” Yuri offered, smiling, and Otabek's wide, amazed eye lifted to Yuri's face.

“She?”

“Our daughter, Sofia.”

Otabek smiled warmly, almost beaming, his eye alight with wonder.

“Oh, my beautiful dancer,” Otabek whispered reverently, “we have a _daughter_.”

“Come inside, Beka,” Yuri urged as we wound an arm through Otabek's free one, and adjusted his hold on little Sofia. “I will get you settled, and you can hold her.”

Yuri exchanged an excited look with Yuuri, and both omegas bit their lower lips in tandem. Viktor seemed to immediately spot their conniving expressions, but for once, the alpha said nothing as he followed the others inside.

As they moved, Yuri chanced a glance up to the sitting room window, and spotted Minami hiding at the edge of it. Yuri jerked his head minutely, as though instructing him to _move_.

Just in time, Minami vacated the room while Yuri helped Otabek sit down in one of the armchairs. All the while, Otabek appeared unable to tear his eyes away from Yuri or the infant, as though he hardly dared believe that either of them were real.

Yuri set Otabek's cane aside, leaning it up against the side of the chair but within reach of the alpha should he need to get it. The sight of the walking aid stirred an uneasiness in Yuri, as did the eyepatch—what could have happened to Otabek that he would need such things? He'd always insisted that he was well in his letters; had he _lied_ to Yuri?

Yuri shook off the worry—once Otabek was settled, he could ask him.

“Would you like to hold your daughter, Beka?” Yuri asked gently, and Otabek smiled again, sweetly and brightly.

“Please, my Yura.”

Yuri smiled at his eagerness. He knew of some alphas who had little interest in their own children, and he could have sung with joy at how both in letters and in person, Otabek was not like that.

Gently, Yuri passed the infant over, showing Otabek how to hold her without harming her.

“Oh,” Otabek said with another reverent sigh as he gazed down at his daughter. “Hello there.”

Yuri smiled, and stepped back a little. Minami, as though expecting this, swept in and passed Yasha to his mother. Viktor, who had been sitting on the sofa with Yuuri, let out a little squeak of surprise, and Yuuri clapped a hand over the alpha's mouth quickly, to silence him.

The commotion had unfortunately alerted Otabek to the fact that something was happening, and when his gaze snapped up to Yuri, his eyes widened.

“Yuri?” Otabek asked, his voice uncertain, and Yuri chuckled a little as he stepped forward slowly.

“This is Yasha,” Yuri said softly, crouching down so that Otabek could see him properly. “Your son, and Sofia's twin brother.”

“ _Twins_...” Otabek breathed, cradling Sofia carefully, though it seemed as though he longed to hold Yasha too. “Oh, Yuri, what a _gift_.”

Smiling, Yuri shifted his hold on Yasha, enabling the omega to reach out and touch his mate's cheek. Yuri leant in and pressed a light, tender kiss to his alpha's lips, and Otabek sighed softly as he kissed him back. The alpha's cheeks were wet with tears, but Yuri knew that they were not tears of sorrow, but of joy. When Yuri at last opened his eyes, he offered his husband another warm, loving smile.

“Welcome home, Beka.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: L'vionak – little lion, term of endearment  
> Otets – father  
> Tëtka - auntie  
> The former term was pulled from a website...that I lost the link to when my phone died x.x, and the latter two are from my Russian-English Dictionary :P


	19. War Changes A Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for June 23rd. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Period-Based PTSD**

Chapter Eighteen – War Changes A Man

 

Yuri and Otabek's moment was abruptly shattered when Sofia began to fuss, and Otabek's expression seemed to cave in on itself, as though he felt that he'd failed as a new parent.

“Here,” Yuri said softly, his tone gentle, but rushed, hoping to remedy the situation before Sofia began to cry in earnest. “Let's switch.”

Otabek nodded, though he still looked distinctly heartbroken. They traded babies, and Yuri unbuttoned his nightshirt before bringing the babe to his chest, where she latched on with a little, snuffling sigh, and her crying immediately ceased.

“How did you know?” Otabek asked, gazing at Yuri like he'd performed some sort of miracle, and Yuri laughed softly, holding the babe with one arm, while he used the other to reach out and he brushed his fingers lightly across Otabek's stubbled cheek.

“After a month of mothering, it has become rather easy to predict why our children cry, my Beka,” Yuri explained with a small smile. “Not always, though—I am still learning.”

“You're a wonderful mother, my Yura,” Otabek murmured, his tone almost reverent, though he broke off when Yuuri and Viktor got up, their hands intertwined, with Minami following behind, and the trio faltered, apparently aware that they'd interrupted Yuri and Otabek's moment.

“We're going to unload the coach,” Yuuri explained, wincing a little as he seemed to be trying to offer them some sort of silent apology. “The coach isn't ours, and Viktor doesn't want to leave the driver out there all morning.”

Viktor nodded in confirmation to his omega's statement, his eyes on Otabek as he added, “you should rest, Sergeant, that wound is no laughing matter.”

Otabek scowled as though Viktor had uttered some sort of horrible curse. Viktor did not pause to even give the look upon the other alpha's face much thought, and instead headed outside with Yuuri and Minami in tow.

“Beka?” Yuri asked softly just as Sofia finished eating, and he brought the baby to his shoulder in order to burp her. “I...I don't really know what to say that won't sound demeaning, but...are you all right?”

“I'm _fine_ , Yura,” Otabek replied, his tone of voice much more cold than Yuri had expected, though something in it gave Yuri the impression that Otabek was not cross with him, but rather with himself—though Yuri could not understand why. “Viktor is making too much of my leg injury.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“Not now, Yura,” Otabek said, his tone sharper than before, and the alpha immediately winced, guilt flickering across his features. “I'm sorry, Yura, I did not mean that. I will tell you soon, I promise, just...I need a little time.”

“Let's get these two back to bed, and we can talk, if you want,” Yuri offered, “not about what happened, just...catch up. Beka, it's been so _long_ , and I've missed you so much.”

The guilt in Otabek's eyes became more pronounced, and despite his clear reluctance to talk, he nodded.

Otabek offered Yasha back to Yuri, though he said nothing, his eyes downcast. For a moment, Yuri did not understand, but then his eyes fell to the cane, and he remembered. Whatever injury Otabek had sustained made it difficult to walk, and perhaps he feared dropping the infant by mistake.

Yuri accepted Yasha into his other arm without a word, adjusting his hold on the two babes so that they were evenly supported, and he leant over the children in order to press a kiss to Otabek's cheek.

“I will be right back, Beka.”

Otabek nodded, not looking up as he glared at his cane, as though it was shouting something offensive at him.

Yuri turned reluctantly from his husband, and he carried the babies back to their bassinet in the master bedroom. He glanced back repeatedly as he walked, almost fearing that Otabek might suddenly vanish as quickly as he had appeared. Thankfully, that didn't happen, and he felt a modicum of confidence flood his body as he hastened to the bedroom, and, for once, Yasha stayed quiet when he was set down next to his sister.

 

Before Yuri went back to Otabek, he slipped into the kitchen and prepared his husband a cup of tea. It took longer than he would have liked, but as it brewed, he felt an odd sense of accomplishment in the task. Tending to his alpha, regardless how small the task was, felt _good_.

“I have truly become a wed omega, I suppose,” Yuri mused, smirking to himself as he cradled the teacup in his hands, and brought it back to the sitting room where Otabek was waiting.

Otabek was fiddling with his cane, perhaps trying to decide if it was worth going to investigate what was taking Yuri so long, but immediately relaxed when he spotted Yuri stepping back into the sitting room.

“Here,” Yuri said softly, pressing the tea on him, before he gently moved Otabek's cane back to the side of the armchair, again within reach should he need it.

“You know how to make tea?” Otabek asked, more surprise in his voice than perhaps he had intended, and Yuri laughed warmly.

“Minami has been teaching me things,” Yuri explained, crouching in front of the chair as he smiled at Otabek. He didn't quite like the position; it felt too much like he was _bowing_ to his husband, and yet, Yuri did not have the heart to ask Otabek to move. He'd been hurt, after all, and Yuri did not wish to aggravate the injury simply to placate his own foolish pride. “With more than a little reluctance, mind you; he did not think it was my place partake in such plebeian tasks as preparing dinner. But the winter has been long, and with few activities to keep my mind occupied after the birth of our children, I asked him to let me help prepare meals. Now, I can make tea, peel potatoes, and cut onions with vague success. Unfortunately however, I am _hopeless_ at cracking eggs without smashing them to bits.”

Otabek laughed, a warm and sweet sound that made Yuri smile. His alpha reached out to touch him, but missed, and readjusted his position in order to brush Yuri's cheek affectionately.

“Oh, Yuri, I have missed you,” Otabek said softly, just as Yuuri, Viktor, and Minami returned with their luggage, and Yuri heard the coach turn away distantly. Despite the commotion around them, Yuri's attention was fixed solely on Otabek.

“I've missed you too,” Yuri said, lifting a hand to cover Otabek's. “Please, drink your tea. I promise it is not terrible. Then you can rest.”

Yuri had meant the words to be inviting, but a dark look crossed Otabek's face, as though he was offended by the omega's words.

In the span of a breath, the expression vanished, and Yuri almost wondered if he'd imagined it as Otabek replied, “that sounds wonderful, my Yura.”

Yuri smiled past his concern as he nodded his head, realization dawning on him as he sat there with his husband.

Something was wrong with Otabek; that much was clear.

Unfortunately, Yuri hadn't the faintest idea _what_.

One thing was clear, however—Otabek was not the same alpha he'd been when he left.

 

~*~

 

Yuri let Otabek finish his tea, and Minami collected the cup from the alpha, smiling as he motioned to to hall, indicating that he would take care of things, and that Yuri could tend his husband for as long as was necessary.

The sun was already up, but after the early and chaotic morning they'd had, both Yuri and Otabek were exhausted, and Otabek did not protest in the least when Yuri suggested they go to bed.

“Erm...do you need help?” Yuri asked tentatively, and Otabek frowned at him, his facial muscles twitching, as though he was struggling to keep from saying something hurtful. Yuri bit his lip nervously, his stomach knotting in an unpleasant way as he watched Otabek visibly force down whatever negative feelings he was experiencing, and shook his head, the motions jerky and terse.

“No, my dancer, I am fine,” he replied stiffly while he grabbed his cane, grunting as he forced himself to his feet, and he limped after Yuri, his face set into a scowl.

Yuri walked ahead of him, more slowly than he normally would have so that Otabek would not feel more upset about his limited mobility. Under any other circumstances, Yuri would _never_ have changed any part of himself for the benefit of an alpha, but this felt different.

Different, perhaps, because it was Otabek.

 

They made it to the bedroom, and Yuri shed the coat that he'd been wearing over his pyjamas, pulled off his boots, and checked on the babies. He pretended that he didn't notice how out of breath his husband was, nor how Otabek shook slightly when he went to the wardrobe for some nightclothes, as though he was well past exhausted by the short trek.

Otabek sat down heavily upon the edge of the bed, and struggled out of his uniform, in particular his trousers. Yuri tamped down on his compulsion to help his alpha, saying nothing, and he obediently averted his gaze when Otabek said, “do not look, Yura.”

Even so, Yuri peeked at his husband out of the corner of his eye, catching him in a state of undress from the waist up.

Yuri's breath hitched with shock at what he saw.

Bullet and knife scars littered the alpha's back, and Otabek was significantly more muscular than he'd been when he had left, though this realization did little to quell the horror Yuri felt at what he was seeing.

Though Yuri had known Otabek had been through something not unlike the pits of Hell, somehow, seeing it made it feel more real.

Yuri forced his gaze away, and covered his mouth to stifle his tears, but a soft, hiccoughing sob escaped past his lips in spite of his efforts. A gentle arm slid around Yuri's waist, and he shivered minutely.

“No tears, my beautiful omega,” Otabek whispered as he pried Yuri's hand away from his face, and coaxed his gaze up until their eyes met. “I am home—I will not leave you again.”

Yuri burrowed himself into Otabek's arms, uncaring that his alpha was only half-dressed. He wept softly, allowing Otabek to believe that the cause for his tears was some sort of joyous relief at his return, and not the state of his body that wordlessly depicted what he had been through over the past months. Otabek rubbed his back and hushed him, pressing soft kisses to his hair and cheeks. The alpha seemed to give up on the idea of dressing properly, and in just a nightshirt and undergarments, he coaxed Yuri down onto the bed before he covered them in a thick woollen blanket, and pressed another soft kiss to his lips.

“I'm so glad you're home, Beka,” Yuri whispered. “Will...will you tell me what happened? Your eye and...and...your leg...”

Yuri didn't have the heart to mention how scarred Otabek was. That was a topic for another day, in particular when Otabek's gaze darkened, as though he was sorely tempted to tell Yuri nothing.

“I was shot in the calf, it will heal in time,” Otabek replied dully, not looking at Yuri as he spoke. “My eye...I was in a fight with one of the rebel soldiers. You do not need to know the details. Suffice it to say he slashed at me with a bayonet, shallow and not necessarily life-threatening, but enough that I lost the eye...”

Otabek trailed off, freezing visibly for a moment before he reluctantly lifted a hand to the eyepatch, and pulled it off.

Yuri inhaled sharply, startled by what he was seeing. It wasn't as gruesome as he had anticipated, but still somewhat horrifying as he tried to imagine just how painful it must have been to endure.

There was a narrow slash, beginning upon the outer edge of Otabek's cheekbone, and it trailed up in a clean diagonal cut to the starting edge of his eyebrow. The space where his eye _should_ have been was sunken, with pink, barely-healed skin covering the gnarled scar tissue. It was tended to by a doctor with practised hands, minimizing the damage to an extent, but the sight of it still made Yuri feel sick with anguish for what Otabek had gone through.

“Oh, Beka...” Yuri whispered, his voice mournful as he reached out to touch the space where his eye once resided, and Otabek flinched away.

“My sight is...compromised,” Otabek said softly. “I sometimes cannot tell how far something truly is away from me.”

“The war is over, my Beka” Yuri replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Otabek's lips. “You do not need to be the perfect soldier any longer. You need only be _Beka_ , be _Otets_ to our children. We do not need you to be perfect for us, Beka, you need only _be here_.”

“I'm not the same man I was when I left,” Otabek warned, his voice soft but firm, as though he was awaiting a rejection, despite the fact that he and Yuri were not just married, but _mated_. Irrevocably bonded. If Yuri were to leave—and if the old omega tales were true—no matter where he went, Otabek would always be able to find him.

“I know that war changes a man,” Yuri said. “I would be a fool not to know it. But you are still Beka. _My Beka_. My alpha. I care little if you have one eye, two, or twelve, nor do I care if your dancing days are temporarily on hold. You are still my husband, and I still love you.”

A rare tear came to Otabek's eye at Yuri's proclamation. He laughed weakly, and moved as though to hide it, but Yuri caught his wrist, stopping him short. Yuri knew that Otabek could shake him off easily if he wanted to, but he did not. Instead, he merely allowed Yuri to pull the hand away, and kiss his tears.

“It's all right, my Beka,” Yuri whispered, his lips falling on another saline drop. “It's all right, I'm here.”

Otabek closed his eye, and pressed his forehead to Yuri's. He let out a shaky sigh as he held on to Yuri desperately, as though he was afraid to let him go.

Yuri held fast to his alpha, and did all that he could to reassure him until, at last, somnolent, Otabek fell asleep in his omega's arms.

 


	20. New Pastures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: LAST CHAPTER! Though this is not the end-end; in two weeks on July 7th, I will be posting an epilogue. This story was both a lot of fun to write, and super hard to get right, as History is not exactly my forté. My beta is on vacation this week, so this chapter is edited 100% by me. If you see any major mistakes, please feel free to yell at me.
> 
> **Content Warning: PTSD-induced nightmares, dissociation, flashbacks.**

Chapter Nineteen – New Pastures

 

When Otabek had returned home, even following Yuri's realization that he was _not_ altogether well, Yuri still fervently believed that everything would simply work itself out, and life would—eventually—return to normal.

Quickly, Yuri realized that that was not to be.

Outside, it was now April. Their first wedding anniversary passed Yuri and Otabek by with little ceremony, busy as they were tending to the two-month-old twins.

Otabek was wonderful with the children. Barring feeding time, he took to task of tending to and playing with the babies at every opportunity, very much like he was making up for all that he had missed.

In the evenings when the children had settled—for a few hours, at least—Otabek would draw Yuri to him and kiss him so warmly and so sweetly that Yuri blissfully forgot all his worries.

And then, in the wee hours of the morning, Otabek would wake screaming.

The nightmares happened with such frequency that Yuri _should_ have found them easy to predict. However, Otabek's reactions deeply inhibited Yuri from being able to do so, as every night it seemed, his responses to waking were always vastly different, but equally terrifying.

Sometimes Otabek would merely scream, waking the whole house. He would weep as Yuri held him, grappling for an eye that was no longer there, while he yelled in pain for a gruesome injury that had long since healed.

Other nights, Otabek would forget that he was home and that the war had ended. He saw only the confined space of the master bedroom, and in a panic he would bolt, often in only his pyjamas and without any form of footwear or his cane.

On those nights, Viktor would don a jacket and boots. With a lantern in hand, he would follow Otabek's trail, his long legs and keen military senses making it easier for him to track the missing alpha down and bring him home.

The worst of the nights came when Otabek woke believing that he was in the thick of a skirmish, and he saw Yuri as an enemy. He would shout and curse, believing Yuri to be one of the rebels he'd fought, and Yuri would break down in tears when Otabek refused to allow him near his own screaming children, as though he believed that Yuri would harm them in some way.

As of yet, Otabek had not hurt him—not physically, at least, but the nightmares did not seem keen to leave Otabek any time soon.

 

~*~

 

Yasha's crying woke Yuri from his second nap of the day, late in the afternoon. He let out a small groan as he got up from bed and scooped up the infant, cooing at him as he brought the babe to his chest, and allowed him to latch on.

The bedroom was empty, an achingly familiar scene to the months Yuri had spent without his husband. The house was quiet, save for the soft, but distant puttering of Minami cleaning. Given the silence, Yuri assumed that Yuuri was still at the market.

Yuri shifted his gaze to the bedroom window, and he felt his heart unclench. Otabek and Viktor were outside. Otabek was motioning vaguely to an expanse of land beyond their borders, and Viktor was talking with him animatedly.

Yuri smiled as he watched them; considering how Viktor previously seemed to just barely tolerate Otabek's presence, it was nice to see them getting along.

Once Yasha had finished eating, Sofia, apparently sensing this, immediately began to fuss. Yuri smiled affectionately as he traded infants while Otabek and Viktor headed back inside.

Yuri smiled again, this time with pride as he noticed that Otabek was walking without his cane, albeit with a noticeable limp. He knew that it was something that might never go away, not completely, but Yuri was so proud of his husband for making such progress.

_It's so good to have him home,_ Yuri thought, Sofia finishing her meal just as the back door of the house opened, and Yuri got up with his daughter still in his arms to go and see his husband.

“Yuri, you're awake!” Otabek said with a warm smile, his arms opening wide as Yuri happily moved forward and accepted the embrace, and got on his toes to kiss Otabek in greeting. “Did you sleep well, or did the children wake you?”

“Both, actually,” Yuri admitted with a warm laugh. “Yasha was hungry, then so was Sofia, but the sleep was needed, I think.”

A soft cloud of guilt momentarily marred Otabek's features, as though he knew that part of Yuri's interrupted nights was his fault, though Yuri hadn't quite meant it as such. He got on his toes to kiss him again, and shifted his grip on their daughter in order to touch Otabek's cheek, just below his eyepatch.

“Our nights will improve as the children learn to sleep through it,” Yuri explained, and he smiled when he saw Otabek relax incrementally.

“Can you walk with me, Yura?” Otabek asked “I would like to speak to you privately.”

“Minami can keep an eye on the children,” Viktor offered, “I am certain it would be more pleasant than his cleaning duties.”

“All right,” Yuri agreed readily, having no issue with letting the other omegas in the house watch the children. “Just let me settle this one down and put on some proper clothes, then I will join you.”

Otabek nodded, smiling as he let him go, but not before he bowed forward to press a gentle kiss to the top of Sofia's little head.

 

~*~

 

Yuri hastened to the master bedroom, admittedly curious about what Otabek wished to discuss. He settled his daughter down into the bassinet, and paused to watch her relax next to her brother, then Yuri turned to his wardrobe.

He changed into a simple white shirt and black trousers, before he pulled on his walking boots, then tied his hair back from his face in a simple braid down the nape of his neck.

Yuri glanced into the mirror, and content with what he saw, Yuri stepped back out, passing Minami on the way, who offered his master a polite smile, clearly on his way to mind the children while Yuri had his walk with Otabek.

“Oh, Yuri,” Otabek said fondly when Yuri stepped back out. “Even in the simplest of attire, you are still...breathtaking.”

“Only for you, husband of mine,” Yuri replied sweetly, reaching out to cradle Otabek's chin before he offered him a kiss, which made the alpha flush a deep scarlet.

“Come,” he said as grabbed his cane, “let us walk.”

Yuri looped his arm through Otabek's, doing what he could to make it appear as though he was not trying to help his husband walk, which he knew that Otabek would not appreciate, while Otabek guided Yuri out of the back door, and into the weak sunshine of the crisp April day.

“Are we walking anywhere in particular today, Beka, or just walking?” Yuri asked curiously as they moved, and Otabek chuckled warmly as he paused mid-step in order to lean over and press a kiss to Yuri's cheek.

“We have a destination,” Otabek confirmed, his voice little more than a low purr. “Come, I will show you.”

Otabek fell silent as he led Yuri on again, past the barn and vegetable gardens, and off to the westernmost edge of the mountains, not far from where Yuri had seen him and Viktor talking earlier. Yuri knew that over the particular peak it led into a valley before it rose up again, heading into more mountainous terrain, though Yuri had never gone there. He had seen it upon maps of the area, which he had consulted to ensure that he wouldn't get lost on his rides with Agape.

“What do you see?” Otabek asked when he stopped, and Yuri blinked.

“What do I see?” Yuri repeated, blinking owlishly at his husband, and Otabek nodded once. “Erm...mountains...trees...a bird...?”

“I see...our land,” Otabek announced, smiling as he held out an arm, sweeping it dramatically like an actor upon a stage, and Yuri began to laugh.

“I beg your pardon?” Yuri asked, his eyes widening a little. “None of this is ours!”

“It is now, my dancer,” Otabek replied, his lips twitching into a sweet smile as he coiled his arm around Yuri's waist and drew him closer. “The government is handing packets of land to former soldiers at very low prices. For thirty rubles, I acquired thirty acres.”

“And what shall we be doing with thirty acres of land, my Beka?”

“We now own the mountain pass and the valley,” Otabek explained, still smiling broadly as he spoke. “Viktor has agreed to work with me to prepare the land, and him and Yuuri will move into a house built into the valley itself. Your friend will be barely an hour's ride away over the mountain. Once everything is ready, I have a herd of sheep ready to be set loose in the valley, and we will sell wool and mutton.”

“Oh, Beka, that's _wonderful!_ ” Yuri said, smiling as he jumped up to hug his husband around the neck. “What made you decide this?”

“It occurred to me that I have not been all I can be for you since my return, my love,” Otabek explained, his expression darkening a little, the guilt clear in the man's eye. “I have allowed my mind to rule me in sleep, and I have done many unforgivable things, not just to you, but to our children and our friends as well. I need to do something to tire my mind and my body...I need to be the man you married.”

“You are still, my Beka,” Yuri offered, touching his cheek lightly. “You saw many horrible things during the war, and it is natural that such things leave scars. Even memories long past can leave scars where we do not want them. It is not a sin to hurt.”

“It is when it hurts you, Yura,” Otabek replied as he moved in to kiss him lightly. “You are my light, my soul...you are everything to me. I would sooner fall upon a sword than ever hurt you with intent. I must do whatever I can to provide for you and for our children. I _cannot_ let my dreams control my actions—I _will not_.”

“I am happy for you—for us,” Yuri said as he got on his toes to kiss Otabek again, realizing, perhaps belatedly, that despite Yuri's reassurances, Otabek refused to see that the residual pains of the war would not fade so simply, and thus Yuri thought it best to change the subject. “Shall we celebrate properly tonight, hm? I can confirm that my heats have not returned as of yet, and so there is little risk of us having another child too soon.”

“Hmm...but weren't you _not in heat_ when I sired the twins?” Otabek purred, leaning in to tickle Yuri's ear with his breath, and making the omega giggle.

“If I may, _alpha,_ I was rather nervous for our marital consummation, which then dampened certain elements of my heat,” Yuri replied, adopting as much of a sardonic tone as he could. “This time, I have no fear of intimacy, or you. I can _confirm_ that we are safe from you sowing your seeds.”

“ _This time_ ,” Otabek countered teasingly, and Yuri laughed.

“Give me at least one year, my Beka,” Yuri said as he continued to smile. “Then we shall have another, and hopefully only one this time.”

“Hmm...not three or four, like the tales of old, where omegas had litters, not children?” Otabek asked, and Yuri let out a howl, something that seemed to be a cross between a moan of pain and a shout of laughter.

“Those legends are _not_ true, or, rather, they _better not_ be,” Yuri replied, mirthful tears coming to his eyes as he continued to giggle. “I could barely get two out, I shudder to think what would happen if I had to do _four_.”

Yuri smirked, a modicum of pleasure coming to him when he saw Otabek turn a little green at the mention of childbirth.

_Amazing,_ Yuri thought, _he can go to war, see the horrors he did, but a single, solitary hint towards the natural act of birthing his children, and he runs for the hills. How like an alpha._

“Let us go inside and tell the others the good news,” Yuri suggested as he reached for his husband's hand. “Perhaps Minami can put together a celebratory dinner of sorts...something with horse, as I assume we shall be eating mutton for the rest of our lives.”

“Do not forget cheese and milk from the ewes,” Otabek offered, “no goat or cow cheeses ever again. We must imbibe sheep and sheep only!”

Yuri wasn't entirely certain if Otabek's proclamation entirely made sense, but he laughed regardless.

 

~*~

 

That night, as promised, Minami made a stew of horse sausage, along with the last of their vegetable stores from the winter, including carrots, rutabaga, and potato.

The stew was paired with mead prepared with the honey of Faiza's apiary and hot sourdough rolls, with a dessert of sweet honey pastries dotted with currants.

Over the dinner, Viktor and Otabek excitedly shared their plans for the sheep, including Yuuri and Yuri interjecting offers to learn to spin wool and sell it at the market. Otabek's cousins had already promised to come help with the construction work, and Yuri could see that to Otabek this project was not merely a means to make a living, but _truly_ a labour of love.

Otabek wanted it so badly, and he was more happy than Yuri had seen him in a long time. Despite Yuri's misgivings that this project would solve all of Otabek's problems, Yuri was not about to dampen the mood by bringing it up now.

Minami built up the fire as evening began to set in, and he brought out a pot of tea for the group. Otabek and Viktor were still discussing sheep, while Yuri and Yuuri were listening to them quietly. Thankfully, Yuri was gifted with a brief respite from all the talk of sheep by the intermittent cries of his children.

“Goodness, your Otets does love his sheep, and we haven't even gotten them yet!” Yuri cooed as he rocked Yasha, who gurgled contentedly in his arms. The two-month-old was getting bigger by the day, and already Yuri was mourning the time when he would no longer be able to hold his son like this. “It's all right though, my _l'vionak,_ I'm not cross with him. Your Otets has been so...sad since coming home. So plagued by demons. If this helps him, I shall eat mutton every day for the rest of my life.”

A warm chuckle resonated from the doorway, and Yuri glanced up to see Otabek standing there, an amused smile upon his face. Yuri felt his cheeks colour, and he offered his husband a weak, apologetic smile.

“I heard that,” Otabek said as he sauntered into the room, and Yuri laughed softly.

“I presumed, given that you were standing there. How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Otabek replied smoothly as he stopped in front of Yuri and leant in for a kiss. “I am glad you are not cross, my dancer. I am excited for this new chapter in our lives, that is all. I am sure in time I will not talk so endlessly of sheep.”

“However, if people start calling us _The Sheep People_ , I insist you select a different livestock,” Yuri replied teasingly, which made Otabek laugh.

“Consider it done, my beautiful husband,” Otabek said as he pecked another gentle kiss upon Yuri's lips. “Come, let us get the children settled, and we may have our night.”

Yuri smiled at that, happy to let his husband kiss the twins goodnight before Yuri did the same, and they laid a thin, gauzy veil over the bassinet, allowing the twins to breathe comfortably and not feel trapped, but inhibit them from catching sight of what their parents were up to.

“We must be quiet,” Yuri whispered firmly in between kisses while they shed their clothes hastily. “I do not wish the children to hear _anything_ that they might remember later in life.”

“Yura, how likely are they to remember it?” Otabek asked gently. “I imagine that to them it is meaningless noise.”

“You don't know that, Beka!” Yuri hissed, though the accusation was marred by a giggle as Yuri wiggled out of his shirt, and tossed it aside. “You're just _guessing!_ ”

“I am, but I would say that it is a very good guess,” Otabek replied, smiling as he, too, divested himself of his shirt, and crossed the space between them in order to cup Yuri's face in his hands and kiss him tenderly. “I am your alpha, after all, if stereotypes are to be believed, I am _always_ right.”

“That is _highly_ debatable, my love,” Yuri retorted, smiling as he gently touched Otabek's waist, and he felt his alpha tense under his touch. Yuri tried to move away, but Otabek shifted his hands to cover Yuri's, keeping them in place, as though he wanted Yuri to touch him, despite the shame he seemed to feel at his newly scarred body.

“I always thought you knew best, regardless what other alphas might say,” Otabek whispered reverently. “Look at how you kept our family together without me. It takes more strength to accomplish all that you have than it takes to fire a gun.”

“I was just waiting,” Yuri replied, smiling sadly as he gazed at his husband. “Like how the sun waits for day. Our family was not complete without you, my Beka.”

“I will always come back to you, my Yura,” Otabek said, moving one hand up to touch Yuri's cheek before he leant in to kiss him again. “That is a promise.”

“I love you, Beka,” Yuri whispered, and flushed pink at the quavering, tearful tone to his voice.

In response, Otabek kissed him again.

Working hurriedly, Otabek and Yuri doffed the remainder of their clothing. Before Yuri could move towards the bed however, Otabek scooped him up, making Yuri let out a little squeak of surprise, even as Otabek limped to the bed, and gently lay Yuri onto it.

“You should not have done that,” Yuri breathed, reaching out plaintively for Otabek, who willingly climbed onto the bed with him. “Your leg...I don't want you to hurt it.”

“I'm fine, Yura,” Otabek murmured, a harsh edge to his voice, as though he was trying not to snap at him. “Were I not fine, I would not have attempted such a manoeuvre.”

“I'm sorry, Beka,” Yuri replied quickly, unwilling to have their night ruined by his own wayward tongue. “I just worry, that's all.”

“You don't need to worry, my Yura,” Otabek said as he bowed forward to press a kiss to Yuri's lips while one hand began to tease his right nipple, coaxing a soft little gasp from the omega. “Allow me to take care of _you_.”

“Please,” Yuri replied, just as Otabek's lips fell onto his in another sweet kiss. As their bodies began to move, slow, almost stuttering as they became carnally reacquainted with one another, Yuri murmured between kisses, “just...promise me something, Beka.”

“Anything.”

“In the morning, please don't go.”

“Go?”

Otabek's movements slowed, and even in the darkness of the room, illuminated by a single oil lamp, Yuri could plainly see the look of confusion and concern cross the alpha's face.

“Last time we made love, in the morning I woke to an empty bed, and you had a summons in your hands,” Yuri explained softly, well-aware how foolish he must sound. “Just...please, promise me you won't go anywhere.”

“Oh, my love...” Otabek murmured softly, almost mournfully as he bowed forward to kiss Yuri again. “The war is over, and I am no longer a soldier, not officially. I will not leave you ever again, my dancer. My only duty now is that which I hold to you, and to our children. You will never be left alone ever again, I swear it.”

Yuri let out a noise, something that seemed to be a mélange of a laugh and a sob, even as Otabek drew Yuri to him again. Otabek kissed him tenderly, while one hand began to stray down his body, tickling the skin he found, and making Yuri gasp.

“I want to make love to you, my Yura,” Otabek whispered in between kisses, “do you want it as well?”

“Yes, oh, God, _yes_ ,” Yuri murmured, already feeling a wetness against the back of his thighs, though he hadn't the wherewithal to feel any semblance of shame over it. “Please, Beka...”

“Present for me, my omega.”

Yuri all but flew from his arms in his eagerness to do so, and Otabek chuckled warmly as Yuri assumed the position upon the bed, his bottom high in the air and ready to receive his alpha.

“Oh, my Yura, you always present so _beautifully,_ ” Otabek whispered as he ran his hand across Yuri's left cheek, making him shiver. “I would be lying if I said I did not think of you like this during those lonely nights before I returned home.”

“And now that I am here, what do you intend to do?” Yuri breathed, earning him another chuckle of warm amusement.

“Oh, my love, I will knot you so that you feel me until your heats return,” Otabek replied, and chuckled again when Yuri moaned his assent.

“Remember what I said,” Yuri muttered into the blankets, “no more children for _at least_ a year.”

“Then I will do my duty as an alpha,” Otabek replied coyly, “and ensure that you feel me for at least a _year_.”

Yuri opened his mouth to respond, but he was abruptly cut off when he felt Otabek's fingers begin to probe his entrance.

Yuri moaned, burying his face in the pillows, but smiled when he heard Otabek let out something not unlike a purr.

“Good, my Yura,” Otabek murmured, “just stay relaxed, I shall take care of you...”

Otabek stopped his teasing in order to insert a finger into him, causing Yuri's breath to hitch, and Otabek pressed a kiss to his side, part in reassurance, part approval for his reaction.

“B-Beka...” Yuri panted, “p-please...”

“Are you certain you do not wish for more preparation?” Otabek asked softly, and Yuri shook his head.

“Need it...Beka, please...”

“And you shall have it, my love,” he said, kissing Yuri's lower back as he adjusted his position. He removed his finger, then swiftly pressed the tip of his cock to Yuri's entrance. It made the omega's breath hitch in anticipation, closely followed by a moan when Otabek began to move forward.

There was a dull ache to Otabek pushing into him, no doubt due to the long dry spell between the present and the last time that they were intimate with one another. Yuri did not find it painful enough to warrant requesting Otabek to stop however, and instead he let out a soft moan, his ass clenching over Otabek's cock, and making the alpha hiss.

“Y-Yura,” Otabek panted, his voice marred slightly by an odd mix of pleasure and laughter. “If you do that again, this shall be over far too soon.”

Yuri smirked to himself, and though he wished to counter Otabek's words with a witty remark of his own, he was rather distracted by the task at hand. Instead, he bowed his head forward and pressed back against his alpha in a silent plea.

Otabek placed his hands more firmly against Yuri's hips as he eased himself the rest of the way in, moving more slowly than was perhaps necessary, making it clear to Yuri yet again that despite his mental scars from war, he was still very much the same Otabek—he still wanted to be good to Yuri, no matter what.

Yuri felt tears of joy prick his eyes at this realization, and he was momentarily grateful that Otabek could not see his face in this position. He gripped the bedding more tightly, keening softly as Otabek filled him, and he shivered as his alpha bowed over him, his lips and tongue finding his mating mark before he reluctantly straightened back up, pulled out, and thrust back in.

Yuri moaned, his breath rattling in his lungs as he tried to follow Otabek's movements, dazed by the intense pleasure, this time unhindered by any kind of fear.

Yuri clutched tightly to the bedspread, his cock aching and heavy beneath him, but Otabek did not touch it. With every thrust Yuri was getting closer, his pleasure amplified by how long it had been since Otabek had touched him like this.

As his pleasure began to peak, Yuri tried to reach for it himself, only to have Otabek's hands tense on him.

“No,” he hissed hoarsely, “you will find your release with me, and me alone.”

“B-But, Beka—!” Yuri gasped out, his words cut short by another soft keen of pleasure, increased by the ridge of Otabek's knot as it began to press more insistently against Yuri's entrance.

“You can do it, my Yura,” Otabek breathed, panting harshly as he moved. “I promise the wait will make it feel _so_ much better.”

Yuri could not fathom it, but by the same token he did trust Otabek, and reluctantly dropped his hand.

Yuri had little time to dwell on Otabek's command as he began to thrust again, harder, the pace almost punishing, and each movement leached a gasp or moan from the omega.

They grew in intensity as Yuri felt Otabek's knot massage his entrance, slipping in and out as it inflated gradually, until with a growl from Otabek the knot locked them together, and he released into Yuri.

Despite Otabek's reassurances that Yuri would find his release, he didn't. Yet again the phrase, _how like an alpha,_ passed through Yuri's hazy, pleasure-addled mind, and he almost laughed out loud.

When Yuri reached for his own cock this time Otabek did not stop him, too lost in his own orgasm to protest. Yuri stroked himself to completion, and they tumbled down onto the bed in a tangle of sweat-dampened limbs.

Otabek held tight to Yuri, ensuring that he would not pull on the knot prematurely while he manipulated their position like a pair of marionettes. The stiff way in which Otabek moved told Yuri that his leg was still bothering him, but Yuri had the good sense to not mention it, and risk ruining the moment.

Otabek stopped adjusting their position once Yuri was facing the twins' bassinet, and immediately the omega reached out in order to tug away the veil.

“Are they asleep?” Otabek whispered, and Yuri chuckled softly.

“Sofia is,” Yuri replied as Otabek drew the blanket over the pair of them. “Yasha can't seem to decide if he wants to sleep yet or not. If we're lucky, he will cry _after_ your knot has gone down.”

“Let us hope,” Otabek said as he chuckled warmly, his arms tightening around the omega while he pressed another warm kiss to his mark.

The couple fell quiet. It was not a silence of awkwardness, but of perfect peace. Everything was as it should be—Otabek was home, their children were safe, and their friends were all together.

With so much love all around them, there was nothing more to be said. Their love was as tangible, as realas the blanket that ensconced them, or the bed that they lay in.

Otabek, perhaps worn out by the excitement of the day, was the first to fall asleep, well before his knot had deflated.

Yuri stayed up longer, until he could move freely again, and at the same moment Yasha seemed to know it. He let out a soft whine, almost as though he did not wish to wake his Otets.

Smiling fondly, Yuri threw on a nightshirt before he swept the babe into his arms, cradling him while Otabek slept at his side.

Once Yasha had settled, and Yuri was confident that Sofia would not wish for a turn, he settled back into bed, and wrapped his arms around his alpha protectively.

For the first time since his return home, Otabek did not wake screaming at any point during the night.

Yuri knew that this was not the end for them—he knew that Otabek was not as healed as he liked to think. He knew that as fervently as he hoped that his presence had been the cause for the lack of bad dreams, so too was it possible that it was just a good night in the midst of some very bad ones that were still to come.

Yuri knew all this, and yet he could not help but hold out hope that things were beginning to get better for his alpha.

Despite all that there still was to overcome, Yuri could now look to their future together with renewed hope that in time, everything would truly be all right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The monetary value of the acres is based on American currency of that time period, rather than Eurasian, as the information was easier for me to find. One acre of land in the 1880s was about 1$, which in today's money would be about 25$ per acre.


	21. The Meaning of Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'M LATE I'M SORRY ;_; busy week paired with my recently adopted 3-month old kitten who is a little demon means I had less time than usual to write. This story has been in my life for so long, and it's been a true pleasure to share it with all of you. I hope you guys enjoy the epilogue, and I'll see you all soon :) Join me on Tumblr to see updates, excerpts, and more.

Epilogue – The Meaning of Peace

 

Yuri awoke to the sound of crying, and yet he could not find it in himself to be cross by it. 

He slipped from the bed, and moved over to the bassinet. The baby within was squirming and crying, still pink and new, only a few days old. 

“Oh, my little Anastasia, are you hungry?” Yuri cooed, scooping the baby up, and immediately she calmed her vocalizations. The way she continued to fidget and whine told Yuri that it was likely she was hungry, and he did not hesitate to unbutton his nightshirt before he brought her to his chest. 

“Yura?” Otabek mumbled from his side of the bed, still distinctly half-asleep. “Is she all right?”

“Just hungry,” Yuri replied as he eased back down onto the bed with the infant still in his arms. “Go back to sleep, Beka, you have an early day tomorrow.”

Soft snoring filled the room before Yuri had finished speaking, and he chuckled to himself. In the last few years, Otabek slept so well, without a nightmare to be found. 

Shuffling near the door alerted Yuri to the presence of one of his children, and when he looked up, he spotted little three-year-old Vladimir tip-toeing into the room, his blue blanket clutched tightly to his chest as he went.

“Mama?” he asked groggily, “was the baby sad?”

“No, my precious,” Yuri replied in a soft whisper, “she was just hungry.”

“Oh.” He paused, and in the darkness, Yuri could see the boy worrying his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure,” Yuri replied with a soft chuckle. “Would you like to see?”

Vladimir nodded fervently, and he toddled forward, stumbling a few times over his blanket as he went. The moment he reached his mother, a second head poked into the room, and this time it was little five-year-old Baltabek, with his toy bear in his arms.

“Mama?” he whispered, his grasp on keeping his voice low far better than his little brother's. “What's wrong with the baby?”

“She's fine, Balta,” Yuri reassured him, “just hungry.”

“She's eating Mama!” Vadimir shouted, his mouth snapping shut only after Yuri and Baltabek both shushed him.

“Papa needs to be up very early to go see to the sheep,” Yuri whispered to his youngest son. “If you wish to see your sister you need to be quiet, my precious.”

“Sorry, Mama,” Vladimir mumbled, his head bowed, and as Anastasia finished eating, Yuri brought her to his shoulder to burp her, and offered Vladimir a reassuring smile. Miraculously, Otabek had not awoken from all the commotion. 

“No harm done,” Yuri said softly. “Luckily, your Papa sleeps like the dead.”

Vladimir giggled, squirming up onto the bed, and Baltabek let out a little gasp, and with a hasty pitter-patter of little feet rushing across the floor, Baltabek wiggled up to join his brother. 

“Shhh,” Yuuri hissed, pressing a finger to his lips as he gazed at his two sons, who were clambering to look down at their baby sister. “Don't wake Papa.”

“Can I sleep with you, Mama?” Vladimir asked, clearly attempting to whisper, but he still spoke at full volume. “I wanna watch the baby.”

“Me too!” Baltabek interjected, albeit much more quietly than his brother, and it caused Yuri to chuckle warmly. 

“Only if you promise to sleep, all right?” Yuri whispered, and both boys nodded, watching intently as Yuri carefully transferred the infant to her bassinet before he buttoned his nightshirt up and drew the boys close. Though he knew that Otabek did not exactly agree with Yuri coddling his sons so much, he would never say so in front of the children for fear of upsetting them. If he had woken up at any point during the exchange, he did not react, and slept on soundly, which Yuri thought was a good thing, as they all had a busy day ahead of them.

“Mama?” Baltabek whispered softly, drawing Yuri from his thoughts, and he glanced down to the boy, running his fingers through his wheat-blond hair affectionately.

“Yes, son?”

“Is it true that Yasha and Sofia are going away tomorrow?”

“Only for a little while, my love,” Yuri replied with a small, reassuring smile. “Papa is going to teach them how to work with the sheep, and they will come back in the evening, but we are all going to go and spend the day with them this time.”

“When will I get to learn how to sheep?” Vladimir asked, and Yuri chuckled warmly. 

“In a while. When you turn ten, Papa will teach you.”

“Yasha and Sofia are ten, that's why they're learning,” Baltabek said to his brother in a very knowledgable tone of voice, and Yuri struggled to swallow a laugh. 

“It's no fair, Yasha and Sofia will get to go play with Katya and Stepushka all the time now,” Vladimir whined, and Yuri chuckled again as he petted Vladimir's dark hair, as he had with Baltabek. 

“Yasha and Sofia will be working, not playing,” Yuri replied patiently. “Katarina and Stepya will be working too, even though they're younger.”

“Stepushka is nine, and Katya is seven, I remember, Mama,” Baltabek said, making Yuri smile again. 

“Yes, they are,” Yuri answered, and out of the corner of his eye he spotted Otabek let out a soft grunt, and shift in bed. “But now is not the time for talk. Come on, let's sleep so that we don't wake Papa.”

“Too late, Yura,” Otabek mumbled groggily, though he didn't move, and he let out a soft groan when Yuri and the children started to giggle.

 

~*~

 

It was early when Otabek woke them up, his actions gentle. He seemed to know that Yuri was already exhausted from giving birth just days earlier, and he would dread rising before the sun in order to help prepare their two eldest children for the big day ahead. 

Yuri fed Anastasia between cavernous yawns, holding her with one arm, while he used the other to eat the porridge that Minami had prepared, topped with honey and fresh fruit. Sofia and Yasha were pale with exhaustion, not talking very much, and picking at their food instead of eating it. Yasha was daintily selecting the blueberries off the top of his porridge and eating them, while Sofia had crushed the fruit and honey into an odd sort of paste that had tinted her bowl of grain a faint violet. Meanwhile, the two younger children ate voraciously, and gibbered excitedly about when they'd be old enough to help their Papa with the sheep.

“Eat, you two,” Yuri said firmly to the twins, “we all have a busy day ahead of us, and it will be no fun at all if you two start your day on empty stomachs.”

“Why do I have to go?” Sofia complained—again. She flicked a lock of dark, wavy hair from her eyes, and scowled at her porridge. The girl looked so much like her Papa, it was almost alarming at times, though she bore the fierce attitude of her mother. 

Added to this, Sofia had presented earlier than anyone had anticipated, and as an alpha. Female alphas were not unheard of, but incredibly rare. Her twin brother had not yet presented, but he didn't seem to care regardless, and had confided in Yuri more than once that he expected to present as an omega when his time came.

Yuri hoped that that wasn't true—the life of a male omega was difficult, and not something he wished for any of his children to endure. 

By the same token, Yuri also suspected that Yasha had not thought that far ahead. Most likely, he was only saying it in the hope of getting out of participating in any sort of manual labour. 

“Because an alpha's role is to provide for her family, Sofia,” Otabek said, his tone short and stern, as though he found her protests to be particularly offensive to him. “You will work the sheep with me, and your brother. It will be good for you.”

Sofia appeared as though she seriously doubted this, but said nothing as she huffily returned to her breakfast.

 

After they ate, Otabek stepped out to prepare the horses while Yuri fought with the children to get them dressed, with baby Anastasia in usual her baby longclothes, Vladimir and Baltabek in little trousers and shirts, and similar garments for Sofia and Yasha. 

Sofia appeared particularly put-off by the masculine clothing, and made a face as she looked down at herself. 

“Mama, I look like a  _ man _ ,” she complained, her eyes dotting with frustrated tears, and Yuri smiled at her sadly as he carefully set down baby Anastasia upon the bed before he drew his eldest daughter into a warm embrace. 

“You do not look like a man, my Sofia,” Yuri reassured her as he pet her hair. “And it is not forever. Your dresses will get ruined if you wear one while you tend to the sheep—it does not make you a man to wear these clothes, it is for ease of movement while you work, that is all.”

“Are—are you sure I'm alpha, Mama?” she asked, sniffling softly, as though she was trying not to cry. “I don't want to be. I want to be beta or omega. This is too hard.”

“I know, my love,” Yuri said softly as he hugged her close. “But your Papa will help you. I know it's probably confusing, but you are still my beautiful little girl, no matter what.” 

Yuri held his daughter until she had calmed down, and when he pulled back, he saw that Sofia was smiling faintly.

“Okay, Mama, I think I'm ready,” she said, though to Yuri, she did not sound very sure about that. The words had rushed out of her like a sudden gust of wind across the steppe, as though she hoped that in rushing the encounter, she could calm herself down more quickly. 

“All right, then. Let's go,” Yuri said, smiling past his defeat, though he knew that there would be time enough to help Sofia come to terms with her designation.

With a weak smile, Sofia nodded.

 

~*~

 

Otabek had correctly assumed that Yuri would want to see his children off for their first day of working with the sheep without him ever having to say it. By extension, that meant that Baltabek and Vladimir would be tagging along as well. As a result, the alpha had taken to saddling up Baltabek's pony along with Agape for Yuri, Anastasia, and Vladimir, as well as horses for the twins and himself.

“Mama are we really going to see the sheeps?  _ Really? _ ” Vladimir asked excitedly, his little eyes wide as he clung to Yuri's leg, and Yuri laughed as he reached down, the opposite arm carefully cradling Anastasia, and he ruffled his son's hair.

“Yes, we are, but just for today,” Yuri replied. “You'll be riding on Agape with me and Ana.” 

“Oh, Mama, do I have to?” Vladimir asked, “why can't I have my own horse already?”

“Because you're not old enough, Vovochka,” Otabek filled in teasingly from the barn, where he was guiding the horses out, and Vladimir scowled at the nickname. “You'll get a horse when you turn five, like Baltabek did.”

“When will I be five, Mama?” Vladimir immediately asked, and Yuri chuckled warmly. 

“In two years, precious,” he replied, and laughed when his youngest son scowled again.

“That's too long, Mama. I need to be five  _ right now _ !” he proclaimed, making Yuri laugh again.

“You'll be five before you know it, Vovo,” Yuri replied with a small smile, and ruffled his hair again. “Just you wait and see.”

 

Otabek, ever the dutiful husband, finished bridling the horses before he helped his children onto each one. Yasha protested that he could do it on his own, but stumbled and nearly fell, making his horse stamp her hooves in irritation.

Sofia fared much better, making Yasha scowl with envy as she pulled herself up onto her own horse effortlessly. 

Otabek helped Baltabek onto his pony, warning him not to take off until everyone else was ready. He used a rare stern tone with the boy that made Baltabek's eyes widen, and he nodded at once, not even daring to touch the reins as he watched his father continue to help the family with their horses.

Yuri smirked as he watched the exchange. Otabek was rarely firm with the children, and his extended family often protested that he was too soft with them—the boys in particular. Yuri was certainly the authoritarian in the household, but when their Papa used his  _ stern voice _ , the children always listened. 

“Ready, my dancer?” Otabek asked when he reached Yuri, and the omega smiled, handing over the babe in his arms in order to pull himself onto Agape, then accepted the baby again, strapping her into a harness affixed to his chest, and holding Anastasia's head carefully, so as to not jostle her. Otabek paused, his eyes turned away from Vladimir, who was almost dancing in his excitement to get on the horse with his mother, and kept focused on Yuri as he stepped forward to whisper, “are you certain you wish to come, Yura? You only brought our second daughter into the world a few days ago. I know how tiring that must have been, and how sore you are.”

“I'm well enough for this, Beka,” Yuri replied reassuringly, offering his husband a smile. “I want to see our children off, and I have enough energy to mind the young ones while you work. Vovo is also too excited for  _ words; _ I would not wish to take that away from him.”

“You give up so much for our children, my dancer,” Otabek said with a reverence in his voice that made Yuri smile again. “See that they do not take everything, yes?”

“Yes,” Yuri agreed. “I will come only this once my Beka, I promise. Tomorrow I shall rest.”

“As much as you can with those two mischief-makers, at least,” Otabek teased, making Yuri laugh as the alpha turned around in order to scoop up Vladimir, who immediately shrieked with delight. 

 

~*~

 

The trip over the mountain was a little slower than usual, aided in part to the extra children on the trip, along with Anastasia's persistent fussing. It became clear rather quickly that she was not overly fond of riding by horseback, and Yuri had to pass the  reins to Vladimir more than once in order to calm the baby. 

Vladimir was thrilled by this, and spent much of the trip asking his mother if Anastasia needed to cry, perhaps in the hope that he might be allowed to take the reins again. 

 

When they at last passed over the mountains and towards the valley below, all the children  _ oohed  _ and  _ ahhed  _ at the proper intervals at the beauty stretched out before them. 

Enclosed by a natural border of mountains, the sheep meandered through the valley, grazing comfortably, and upon the farthest edge was a quaint little cottage, bracketed by a small barn and garden. Even at a distance, Yuri could see Viktor tending to the sheep, and his and Yuuri's two children, Katarina and Stepya, were sitting just outside the house with a vat of dye and a spinning wheel, working with the sheared wool that had previously been collected. 

Vladimir was the first to react to the sight of his favourite people, and bounced in place happily as he let out a squeal and waved his arms, though Viktor and the children did not seem to notice the noise yet, given that they were deep in the valley, and too far to hear the boy's cries. 

 

Yuuri stepped out of the cottage, two child-sized mugs in his hands, which he was passing to his children when they finally noticed the little herd of Altins coming towards them.

“Yuri!” Yuuri cried, smiling and waving while the two children nursed their mugs, apparently caught between wanting to greet them, and wanting to not spill their drinks. “Good morning! Did you come to visit with Otabek?”

“It is Sofia and Yasha's first day, remember?” Yuri replied as they slowed to a stop. Otabek leapt off his horse first, and went to each of his children to help them down, while Yuri waited for his turn. “I wanted to join them.”

“You are braver then I am,” Yuuri replied, chuckling warmly, pausing his words when Otabek got to Yuri, and helped Vladimir down first, before he took Anastasia in one arm, using the other to help Yuri dismount before Yuuri continued. “I could not  _ imagine _ riding for an hour just days after having a child.”

“It's funny how everyone keeps saying that,” Yuri mused as he accepted Anastasia back from Otabek, and smiled as his husband leant in for a warm, tender kiss. 

“I will collect Yasha and Sofia and bring them to the field. If you need anything—”

“—I shall have Yuuri to help me,” Yuri finished for him, getting on his toes to kiss Otabek in return. “Please, don't worry about me, my shepherd. Just go and teach our twins. I will be fine.”

Otabek's cheeks tinged pink at the term of endearment, which made Yuri chuckle warmly, and he kissed Otabek one last time.

“Go and enjoy yourself. I shall be fine.”

Otabek appeared reluctant to go, but seemed to at least somewhat snap out of it when Viktor called for him, and gathered up a distinctly reluctant-looking Yasha and Sofia, who shuffled behind their father, while turning to gaze pleadingly at Yuri, as though he might let them relax with him, instead of work.

“I think I may have been too lenient with those two,” Yuri mused as he watched them go. Viktor was leaving the field as Otabek stepped out onto it, having spent the whole night standing watch, it was now time for him to rest.

“Perhaps a little,” Yuuri agreed as he waved Yuri towards the cottage, where just outside the front door was a long wooden bench, one particular spot topped with a plush goose feather cushion, and a bassinet next to it, making it clear that Yuuri had not forgotten that Yuri had intended to come today.

With a small sigh of relief, Yuri gently laid Anastasia in the bassinet before he sat down himself. Almost at once, Baltabek scampered over and began to tug on Yuuri's sleeve, his bright eyes wide and curious, with his little brother toddling behind, his thumb popped into his mouth. 

“Tëtka Yuuri?” Baltabek asked, almost shyly, and Yuuri smiled as he bowed forward a little to look at the boy.

“Yes, Balta?” Yuuri asked kindly, making Baltabek's cheeks tint pink at the nickname.

“Can me and Vovo help Stepushka and Katya play with the wool?”

“Do you mean help spin and dye it?” Yuuri asked, and Baltabek nodded, with Vladimir mirroring his brother's nod not far behind. 

“Of course,” Yuuri replied, his smile widening a little when Baltabek's expression brightened at the assent. “Shall I show you two how to do it?”

“Yes, please!”

Yuri chuckled as he watched Yuuri lead the two youngsters over to his own children, both of whom had paused drinking from their mugs as their mother came over. Both of them bore black hair like Yuuri's, but blue eyes like their father. Though Yuri adored his own children, he could not help but feel, often, that Yuuri's two were almost too beautiful for farm work. They had the grace of nobles, something that Yuri could not  _ quite  _ claim for his own rambunctious brood, who always seemed to find creative new ways to muss their clothes or get into mischief.

Yuri watched from a distance as Yuuri showed the boys how to spin the wool and how to dye the spun portions. Yuri was quite content to sit and rest while he let Yuuri take over—for the moment.

That is, until Anastasia started to fuss.

Yuri smiled, though it was a fatigued sort of expression, and he dutifully scooped his daughter up. He rubbed her back and checked her over, before finding that she was once again hungry.

Yuri unbuttoned his shirt and brought the baby to his chest, allowing her to nurse while he noted that Baltabek and Vladimir were having far too much fun with their new jobs to notice their baby sister's vocalizations. Already Vladimir's arms were coloured a rich blue up past his elbows as he submerged the wool deep into the vat of dye, while Baltabek seemed to be faring a little better with the spinning wheel, albeit stamping on the pedal harder than was necessary. 

Yuri let out a pleasant sigh, his gaze shifting to the fields, where he saw his husband and two eldest children, the latter two seeming happier than they had been earlier that morning. Yasha seemed to be particularly enjoying his job of directing the herding dogs, while Sofia was guiding a line of woolly sheep towards the barn, likely to be sheared. Even she seemed a little happier, a faint, almost reluctant smile on her face as she went, constantly slowing her pace to pat one of the sheep on the head, before she was gifted with an affirmative bleat from the animal.

Yuri relaxed against the bench, a pleasant smile upon his face as he brought Anastasia to his shoulder, and rubbed her little back gently.

In that moment, Yuri truly understood the meaning of peace.

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The variations on Vladimir's name are nicknames specifically for the Vladimir that I pulled from Google. Vovo is supposed to be very familiar, and Vovochka is supposed to mean “a misbehaving little boy”. Again, according to Google. The variations for Katarina and Stepya are my own attempts at Russian nicknames, so any mistakes there are all on me.


End file.
